


Walk Me Home

by Little_Red92



Category: Jak and Daxter
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, First Kiss, Fluff, Happy Beginning, Heartbreak, Kissing, Purple Prose, Romance, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-05-12 16:09:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19232512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Red92/pseuds/Little_Red92
Summary: Three times Jak walks Keira home + the one time Keira walks Jak home





	1. The Start of Time

**Author's Note:**

> I am so in love with this pairing again!!! This story is starting off sweet and fairy-tale like but as the chapters continue the magic of first love will change and grow. I look forward to sharing this adventure with you :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jak walks Keira home after a night exploring the Forbidden Jungle

_Walk me home in the dead of night_   
_I can't be alone with all that's on my mind,_   
_So say you'll stay with me tonight_   
_Cause there is so much wrong going on outside_

**_Pink - Walk me home_ **

 

All is quiet in the late hours of the night, the air is growing cold as the fires dwindle to embers, cloaking the village in darkness. The villager’s slumber in their huts, wrapped tightly in blankets to keep the autumn winds at bay. Only two young souls stir. One is staying awake to work in the golden glow of a rusted lantern, deft fingers connecting wires, sure and steady hands crafting marvellous mechanisms. The other is sneaking quietly through a garden.

Consumed by her project, Keira doesn't notice the shadow moving outside the window, is deaf to the careful footsteps walking across the grass. Her father's snoring seeps down through the bowing timber floorboards, a comforting tune that will stop the moment the sun crests on the horizon. Keira is familiar with the late hours of the night, has worked fingers raw and muscles sore over many nights. Keira stays awake tinkering and creating, imagining inventions that could change the world.

The villagers think her dreams are too ambitious, too elaborate for a girl to pull off. Beatrice, the bird lady with a funny hat and yellow and blue finch on her shoulder, tells Keira she shouldn’t bother with such nonsense, teaches her to make bread and knit instead. Fills her head with antiquated notions. Keira grits her teeth, anger seeping into fingertips, into the dough that rises all wrong, tastes bitter no matter how much jam is spread on to it.

She pricks her fingers on sewing needles, staining fabric red, stitching jagged lines. Beatrice tells her she’ll never make a husband happy if she can’t cook or knit a scarf. The farmer frowns at her brightly coloured overalls, and grease streaked cheeks. The fishermen scoffed at her suggestions to improve his boat, tells her not to worry her pretty little head about it.

Sharp words scratch at her throat, desperate to escape. Anger simmers like acid beneath her skin, twisting and twisting until there are tears in her eyes. The beauty of Sandover shatters in these moments, the world shrinks, pressing in at every turn, suddenly a very lonely place for a girl with a head full of ideas and a heart full of dreams. The village, peaceful and beautiful as it is, isn’t ready for a gifted girl with a fiery spirit. But she will show them. She will build inventions that change lives and prove that her hands, though small and delicate, can do more than knead bread and thread needles.

A brisk breeze carries a chill into the room, autumn night air settling on her skin, cool enough to prickle. Outside cricket’s chirp, the waves crest lazily against the shore, and her father's snoring grows louder. Keira looks down at the metal pieces, glistening in the light of the lantern, and sees them come together, wires fitting, wings beating, eco powering. A few more adjustments and the Scout Fly will be up and running, well flying. He just needs a few more tweaks here and there then he’ll be perfect.

A barely there tap against the window frame startles her. She whips around to face it, finding Jak's face peering in, those ocean blue eyes so beautifully warm and inviting in the dim light. Has he been there long? Jak moves so silently  on his feet, unlike Daxter, who is clumsy, loud in every way possible. Keira stands on pins and needle legs, padding towards the window, avoiding the boards that creak and groan.

“Jak, what are you doing here?” she whispered, hands tugging lose the wooden beams that make up the cross formation on the otherwise open window.

This is Keira's secret escape into the night, a few tugs and out she slips, a streak disappearing into the dark, a handsome, silent boy at her side. These late-night visits are becoming frequent, a welcome, familiar break to the long hours of the night. When the day has been unkind, suffocating and dreary, Jak will appear outside her window once the villagers fall asleep. He'll help her shimmy out, take her hand and lead to Sentinel Beach or past the farmer's hut to the Forbidden Jungle. Keira follows every time with butterflies in her stomach, songbirds beating in her chest. Comes home giddy and rosy-cheeked, sinking into bed and drifting to sleep with a smile on her face.

The Villagers say a suitable husband won’t want a girl with chipped nails, grease-stained clothes and a mouthful of words that make sense only to her. They tear her down, chip away at her confidence and pride. They shove, belittle and force her into a box that is narrow and sharp-edged, seal it shut with a ribbon made of broken dreams and ugly words. Jak doesn’t care that her hair’s a mess or that her clothes are torn and dirty, his eyes only ever hold admiration and wonder when they gaze upon her. Jak listened to every word, encouraged every wild dream, helps gather scraps from shipwrecks for inventions and finds her Precursor artefacts to study.

Jak believes in her when the world does not.

“I have something to show you," he signed, hands moving fast in excitement.

“What is it?” she asked, reaching back inside to grab her coat from the hook she installed right by the window for these very occasions.

“It’s a surprise," he signed back, bouncing on the balls of his feet in eagerness, waiting patiently for Keira to pull on her coat before grabbing her hand and leading them off into the night.

They cross the swaying bridges into the village, tiptoe through the overgrown grass and past the farmer's hut, his loud snores following them through the cove to the edge of the Forbidden Jungle. Jak helps Keira climb up the cliffs, there edges jagged and soggy after a recent downpour. Awaiting at the top is a lantern burning low, moths drawn from the dark depths of the jungle to dance in the warmth of the flame. They scatter as Jak lifts it, turning up the heat to create more light to guide their way. 

The jungle looms before them, a wild, living thing full of shifting shadows and creeping vines that wait to trip people over when they’re distracted by creatures scurrying through the overgrowth and leaping through the trees. Beyond the towering trees, nestled within the rich green depths of the jungle, like it sprouted from the earth, is the Forbidden Temple. It glistens in the moonlight, shimmering like a lost treasure as eco and energy ripple in the air around it. The sight captivates Keira, always does no matter how many times she’s been here. The mystic energy calls to her, bewitching and luring, offering to whisper secrets that would unravel the mystery of the universe.

Jak takes her hand, his fingers are strong and calloused from hard labour and climbing rocky ledges, nails blunt and brittle from digging in the sand for buried treasures. Jak only turned fifteen in the summer, but he’s already filling out, arms and chest looking more like the sculptor’s work. The boyish charms are still there in bashful smiles and playful nature. Jak still does silly dances with Daxter and builds sandcastles with Keira on the beach. But she’s noticed the villagers placing more responsibility upon his shoulders, has noticed her father tasking him with more chores and doubling his eco channelling sessions.

Jak is the only person Keira knows that can channel all four types of eco and he does so effortless, with so much joy that it makes Keira heart sing. Jak isn’t like anyone else she’s ever met, and the ocean brings many traders, explores and vagabonds, each with wondrous tales to tell, all told with a variety of accents. Many strange and unique people pass through Sandover, some quiet and stern, covered in scars and reeking of rum, some loud and bright as sunshine, charming and kind as they give gifts from far off lands. The villagers themselves are an eclectic bunch, steeped in old fashion values that will fade as the times change.

Jak is so different to the other boys his age, is both care-free and wise, like he was born in a different time, raised somewhere that treated girls like equals and not pretty things to be seen and not heard. Jak and Daxter don’t fit in with the children from the neighbouring villages. Daxter is too loud, too clumsy, stands out like a sore thumb with his fiery red hair and yellowed freckled skin. Jak has trouble speaking, is more comfortable communicating through sign language. Keira is spirited and confident, dresses like a boy in trousers and overalls that are made with colourful, resistant fabrics.  The other girls wear dresses day after day while tending to flowers and collecting berries to bake pies with. The other boys make fun of Daxter’s big teeth and Jak’s mutism.

For as long as Keira can remember it's been the three of them against the world, and though she loves Daxter very much, lately she can't help but see Jak in a new light. He's different now, the soft boyish features are shifting into sharp lines and well-defined muscles. Jak sprouted into a handsome young man seemingly overnight. Keira turns to look at him, watching the light dance over his tan skin, turn ocean blue eyes golden. He catches her staring, squeezes her fingers, and the butterflies stir within, fluttering through her stomach as something sweet and powerful beats to life in her chest.

Their love story is being written in the glittering stars; the very fabric of the universe is shaping their destiny.

Her father is always talking about how the Precursors handmade this world and have a purpose for all the souls living in it. He tells Jak that a great destiny awaits him, that he must learn to be brave and strong, must master combat skills and eco. He’s going to be a hero someday, like the gladiator from Rock Village, like the warriors who sail the seas and capture lurkers, bringing their pelts back to make coats out of. Keira thinks he might save the world someday, from what or whom she is not sure, but greatness rests on Jak’s shoulders, sits like an invisible crown upon his head.

And out of all the girls in the village, in the entire world, the Precursors have chosen her to walk at his side. The villagers tell her that she is foolish, has her head in the clouds and shouldn't bother with tinkering and studying history. They tell her father he should make her wear dresses and bake cakes, not go scavenging in the Forbidden Jungle with two rowdy boys. Samos does not tell Keira to do any of these things. He encourages her to build, to create, gives her books and tells her tales, as he tucks her in at night, about the beginning of time itself. Keira has a great destiny awaiting her too, one that her knowledge and skill will be needed for.

She doesn't know when that destiny will arrive, is both excited and anxious for it, but it's enough to keep her from going mad, to keep her from crying and giving up. Collapsing into the box the world desperately wants to shove her into. 

Tonight, there's no need to think of destiny or the future. Jak's guiding them past the temple to a small patch where the trees have been cleared, and a Precursor artefact sits dormant in the centre. Towards the edge, glowing blue in the otherwise black undergrowth is a cluster of Night Lilies. They sway in the gentle breeze, delicate petals shimmering.

“They're beautiful,” Keira whispered, gazing at Jak, finding the blue of his irises illuminated by the glow of the flowers. It's just a trick of the light but as he moves, just a fraction, his entire eyes turn a luminous white. 

Pale lashes flutter, and it's gone, Jak is grinning, eyebrows arched high. He's happy, a little bit smug that the surprise has played out so well. Keira blushes faintly, ducking her head to hide the flush from Jak's keen sight. He touches her chin lightly, encouraging her to look up and when she does, there is a Night Lillie, which smells earthy and sweet, under her nose. She inhales summer rain, lavender fields and blueberry pie. The Night Lilies have no scent, but they can sway someone into thinking they smell like their favourite things. 

Night Lilies are incredibly rare and powerful, their luminescent petals steeped in tea can calm troubled minds and sooth throbbing heads. Their stalks crushed up and smoked evoke prophetic dreams, but only sages and soothsayers can consume them, anyone one else would fall gravely ill. Jak tucks the Night Lillie behind her left ear, it's light as a feather, shines like a star plucked from the sky. Her gaze drifts back to Jak's face, he's wearing a lopsided grin and rubbing at the back of his neck shyly. The other hand is still on Keira's neck. Feels warm like the heat wafting from a fire.

Feels like the start of something. 

Carried by courage, enchanted by the night and Jak's sweet gesture, lured by his eyes and the new feelings growing within Keira closes the space between them. Jak's lips are soft and warm against hers, still for a moment, caught off guard by the bold action. Then they part slightly. Keira moves closer, treading on something that is possibly Jak's foot, but he doesn't seem to mind. Their lips move awkwardly, noses bumping and hands fumbling for purchase. It's graceless and clumsy, leaves Keira blushing scarlet and giggling against Jak’s lips. When they break apart, he chuckles silently, eyes glistening as vividly as the night sky. 

“Not bad for a first kiss,” he signs, movements a little clumsy as he struggles to quell the shakes. 

Keira's heart is hammering in her chest, pulsating in her ears, and the butterflies are swirling in joy. No, not bad for a first kiss, not bad at all. “We could use more practice,” she says instead, lashing fluttering flirtatiously.

Jak nods, grinning like the muse that got the cream, leaning back in with more confidence than before. Keira tilts her head forward, rising on tiptoes to match Jak’s height. The night comes to a standstill, the waves freeze, and the breeze ceases, suspending them in a pocket of time where everything is glittery and golden, is sweet and perfect. Her skin hums and her heart sings Jak’s kiss is electric like blue eco, touch burning like fire. This moment is what love stories are made off, Keira could write sappy songs about the feel of Jak’s lips and poetry about ocean eyes that hold fire and glittering light.

A brisk breeze rustles through the trees, knotting hair and seeping through clothing into tired bones. Time unfreezes, the distant sound of ocean waves and jungle life flitter back in. Keira’ sighs into Jak’s mouth, lips tingling and tongue tasting of mango and mint. She doesn't really know where they go from here. She could kiss him again, but the night is moving around them, pressing in and her eyelids feel heavy and her head foggy.

Maybe she could collect the lantern from where it's hanging from a low branch, casting them in warm light, lead them back to the edge of the jungle so they could sit and wait for the sun to rise. Or perhaps they could just sit here amongst the flowers and enjoy each other's company, bathe in the aftermath of their first kiss. Keira sits down on the cold damp ground, Jak taking the spot on her right, so close that their knees touch. She reaches out towards the Night Lilies, feels their delicate petals strum against her skin, tingle like her lips. 

“I’ve nearly finished the Scout Fly,” she says, filling the quiet night air with idle chatter, knowing Jak is always eager to listen, to know how her latest inventions are going. “I just need a little more metal from Rock Village and to figure out the flying mechanisms, then he’ be good to go.”

Jak smiles encouragingly, wanting to hear more.

“I have a crazy idea… the villagers are going to think I’m mad, madder than usual anyway.” Jak frowns, expressions shifting from irritated to a smug ‘who cares’ which is emphasised with a one-shouldered shrug. Keira’s heart races in anticipation, the words bubbling out. “I’m going to make something that can travel long distances over land, something that can fly over lava and other types of dangerous terrain. I’m not sure what I’ll call it yet, but I’m working on sketches.”

Jak is grinning, listening to every word. He's often the first to try out Keira's inventions, it doesn't always go as planned, and Samos has had to heal him half a dozen times, but he's never discouraged. Keira loves that about him. No matter how many times Jak gets knocked down, he'll always get up again. It inspires Keira to do the same. Together they are unstoppable, are a damn good team.  

“When can I see the sketches?” he asked.

"Soon," she replied, face hurting from smiling so widely. "Once I'm happy with the design I'll show you. I just hope I can pull it off."

“You will,” Jak reassured, eyes full of encouragement and excitement. “There’s no one else who could.”

Keira blushes, ducking her gaze humbly. “Well, I have a great friend who believes in me.” She looks up through long lashes, smiling at the boy who believed in her no matter how many times she failed, who is a true friend and possibly something more. “I couldn’t do any of this without you, Jak, so thank you.”

It’s Jak turn to blush, body language mirroring hers. Keira fumbles in the dark for his hand, fingers lacing together, skin warm and as familiar as her own. They sit in silence for a while, watching the flowers sway in the lazy breeze, listening to the rustle of leaves and chirp of crickets. Keira’s head grows heavy, shoulders slumping as fatigue creeps through her tired frame. Her fingers ache in the cold, skin torn and worn from long hours of use. 

In the morning her father will smother them in a healing green eco balm, wrap them in thick bandages and scold her for working through the night. She will itch and fidget until the balm seeps into her bone, easing the ache, healing cuts and soothing quicks. Samos will forbid her from doing any manual work for the rest of the day, will send her to play on the beach with Jak and Daxter or tuck her into bed with a book and a cup of tea. The discomfort, the boredom is worth it to keep her fingers nimble and strong.

Come night, she'll be back in her workshop or hunched over her desk as ideas come to life on paper.

Tonight, she is ready to shimmy back in the window, shrug off her coat and crawl into bed. She is tired and heady, spellbound by the night and her first kiss. Keira won’t tell a soul about this, the night will hold tight to their secret, to the beginning of their love story. Keira blinks, trying to clear the fog that glitters and glows behind closed eyes. The world seems a lot brighter, colours and smells vivid, sounds moving through her the way tremors move through the earth.

This must be what falling in love feels like.

Keira could stay here all night, all entirety but the night is slipping away, the jungle quietening and the waves growing faint as the tide drifts out to sea. It’s time to go home, to bid goodnight to the handsome boy at her side.

“I should head back to the village,” she announced, untangling their fingers before rising on numb, sluggish legs.

“I’ll walk you home,” Jak signed, before rising to his feet, taking a moment to stretch before reaching for the lantern.

"Such a gentleman,” she praised, kissing his cheek, receiving a lopsided grin.

Jak smile turns playful and charming, he pulls her into his arms, calloused fingers working their way under her coat to tickle at her ribs. Keira giggles, struggles and wiggles until she breaks free. Jak fails to catch hold of her, coat slipping through his fingers. Keira is lightning quick, escaping his grasp, circling around to jump on his back. Jak's shoulders shake laughter, Keira holds on tight as he takes off, carrying her back the way they came, not setting her down until the jungle thins out and the receding tide comes into view.

They walk in silence from there, side by side, hand in hand.

Keira kisses him goodnight, the stars glitter and wink above them, burning with secrets and concealing a future that will change them both irrevocably. Keira shimmies back inside, replacing the wooden slates with practised ease. Jak holds her gaze, lingering for a few precious moments before ducking his head and walking off into the night. Keira watches until the lantern is an orange speck in the distance, sighs dreamily, twirls and swirls as the magic of the night hums against her skin.

Love feels electric and pink. Is thrilling and enchanting and dizzying. 

Keira plucks the flower from behind her ear, tucks it under her pillow so her father won’t see it, so the scent and memory of the night can follow into her dreams. She shrugs off her coat, wipes the mud and grass from her feet and crawls into bed, curling up under the covers. She dreams of kissing Jak, of running through a field of Night Lilies, hair blowing in the wind, laughter in the air. Jak runs ahead of her, glancing back with eyes that churn like the ocean during a storm, the sight steals the joy from her chest, the laughter from her lips.

Then he's running again, and Keira gives chase, always out of reach, and the next time Jak looks back his eyes are clear and calm like the sea on a summer's day. Laughter and joy burst back to life, and the field comes to an end. It's just the two of them under a sky full of burning stars. The dream fades, lost to the night, to dreams that are whimsical nonsense. Keira wakes with a smile, with joy beating in her heart, inspiration flooding through her veins. She is filled with joy that is glittery and golden.

Everything is brilliant and beautiful and perfect.


	2. When The Parties Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jak walks Keira home after the celebration at the Ottsel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I can say is be prepared for angst and feels. This chapter isn't as lovely and sweet as the first. I'm not 100% satisfied with how it turned out, but I am still happy enough with it. Enjoy! 
> 
> PS: Chapter three will be up next weekend/week :) I have already written it and just need to edit it.

_Don't you know I'm no good for you?_  
_I've learned to lose you can't afford to_  
_Tore my shirt to stop you bleeding_  
_But nothing ever stops you leaving_

**Billie Eilish - When the parties over**

The sounds of celebration can still be heard as the witching hour comes to an end. Music and laughter echoes in the wind, carrying joy and hope through the desolate streets. Jak folds himself into a darkened corner outside the Naughty Ottsel, listening to the festivities spill out into the night. The night air holds a sigh of relief, is charged and electric with change. The citizens are free of the Baron’s violent reign, are no longer living in fear of the ruthless Krimzon Guards and monstrous Metal Heads.

The day is saved, the city can rest easy, can shout and cheer. Can dance in the streets and fill the sky with fireworks.  It’s time to rejoice. But the vibrant joy, the re-ignited hope doesn’t reach Jak where he stands in the shadows. Darkness wraps around him, building a kingdom of ice and thorns inside his chest. Protecting a fragile beating heart. The relief of defeating Kor and saving the city burned out fast, dropping Jak in a pit of despair.

He couldn't stand the too bright lights of the bar, the loud music with its pounding bass that reverberated through his bones. Jak tried to drown the sorrow in champagne that tasted bitter, tried to smile and pretend everything was okay. Pretend _he_ was okay. But he’s not. Hasn’t been since he woke up alone, cold and frightened inside a cinder block cell that smelled of blood and rot. The façade is slipping, the glittering night revealing the cracks in the armour, the sorrow in his soul. There’s no more war, no more battles to be fought and won. There’s just an unknown future stretching out before him and a painful past following him.

Jak shakes the anxious, spiralling thoughts away, stepping out of the shadows into the pale light of the moon. The sky is streaked with smoke, hazy from the thick smog that dims the stars. Jak misses the vast skies of Sandover, misses the sand and fresh sea air. The Port smells of pollution and smoke, the water grey and cold, nothing like the warm, crystal waters of Geyser Rock. He wants to go home. To the quiet village with its patchwork huts surrounded by green grass that smelled of rich, healthy soil. Jak longs to feel sand between his toes, the brisk ocean breeze tugging at clothes and ruffling cold fingers through his hair.

He longs to feel peace, to find a sliver of it in the darkness, but at every turn, every corner all there is to find is pain. Is something sharp like glass. Something rotten. Fingers curl into fists, claws biting through the hard-wearing fabric, sinking into soft flesh that is already heavily scarred with silver crescent moons. The dark eco tugs at the back of Jak's mind, burns like gasoline in straining lungs. Sometimes it's easier to give in, to let the beast rise. Fall into the abyss.

Escape into the nothingness, where not even the most horrifying memories can reach. 

There is a loud burst above, followed by a streak of blue and red lighting up the night sky. Jak slams back into his body, fingers uncurling, claws receding to bitten down nails that are cracked, brittle and gleaming crimson. Jak smears bloody fingertips on his shirt, the dark coloured fabric and shadows of the night turning red to black. A shaky breath rattles free from his lungs, eyelids growing heavy as fatigue presses in. It’s late, he’s been standing for hours. Running for months, from guards, from death. From the strange, unfamiliar pain that’s growing, _festering_ inside his chest.

Jak’s about to slink off to the Underground or somewhere dry and safe to sleep when he hears unsteady footsteps approaching. Reaching for the gun that isn’t there, Jak moves further into the shadow, hoping to avoid whoever is passing by. The Naughty Ottsel was packed with people drunk on joy and cheap champagne when he left, their happiness as thick and pungent as the cigarette smoke that hung in the air. They danced and sang, took shots of something blue that burnt like gasoline on the way down.

They only had praise and gratitude to give tonight, when only days ago their mouths were full of hateful things, eyes narrowed in disgust, wide in fear, darkened with hatred. Now they are glassy, pupils' black pools of delight. It makes Jak trust them less. It's hard to find sincerity in their wide smiles and slightly slurred words, the citizens might be grateful to be alive, to be free of Praxis, but once the sun rises and the alcohol evaporates from their system their disdain will seep back in.

Haven City will never open its arms to a creature made of dark eco. There’s too much innocent blood on his hands to be washed clean. To be forgiven. It won’t be long until they come with their pitchforks and torches. The footsteps near, Jak shrinks against the wall, shielded by the night. A familiar tune carries on the wind, a soft melody reaching into the darkness, enveloping Jak's bruised and beaten body. Warm and comforting like a blanket. Keira steps into view, a streak of silver in the dark, twirling under the smoke-filled sky in a velvet star-speckled dress that makes it look like she's cloaked in the universe.

Jak's heart skips a beat, body gravitating towards her, pulled by an invisible string. He moves into the light. Keira stops mid-twirl, teetering on shimmering heels, face flushed from drink and the brisk breeze. Emerald eyes glisten with a thousand pretty lights, pink lips curve into a smile, she looks relieved to see him. Jak can't imagine that many friendly faces emerge from the shadows and alleyways of Haven City. He's surprised she's out alone, then again; she's been here all by herself for the past two years.

“Jak, hey,” she waves, correcting her stance only to almost topple over as she rolls an ankle.

Jak closes the distance between, reaching Keira’s side before she can do any damage. He is used to being there to catch her when she falls. She’s always running too fast, moving too quickly. Most of the time Keira was steady, sauntering and gliding gracefully about, but if she were excited, chasing thoughts and ideas about, she'd trip and stumble. Though Jak can see it's her footwear causing the trouble, though there is a hazy look sitting alongside the pretty lights in her eyes. She's tipsy and attempting to walk home at some ungodly hour, that's not happening on Jak's watch.

“You okay?” he asked, keeping a steadying hand on the small of her back.

"Yeah, I’m fine,” she reassured, smiling softly. “I shouldn't have let Tess talk me into wearing these things.” She gestured down at the sparkling silver boots with their three-inch heel. She's almost as tall as Jak in them, it's a little strange to see. “They're cute, though.”

“Until you break your ankle,” Jak mumbled, rolling his eyes.

“At this rate, that’s a high probability,” she sighed, sounding resigned to her fate. “I think I had too much drink.”

“I think everyone's had a little too much to drink,” he remarked, tone biting and blunt. Swallowing the sour taste and bitterness, Jak softens his voice as tried again. “Let me walk you home.”

“Oh, it’s okay, Jak.” She shakes her head; a few loose strands of hair slip free from her elaborate do. “I’ve walked home plenty of times before.”

“Keira, it’s not safe,” Jak declared, tone gruffer than he meant. He’s not used to speaking, hasn’t figured how to pitch his voice just right. The words usually spill out gravelly and twisted into something sharp like cut glass and harsh like bark.  “I mean, the streets were just filled with Metal Heads, so it’s probably not a good idea to walk home alone.”

“You were alone,” Keira says defiantly, arms crossing in a silent challenge.

Even after all this time, Keira is still unwilling to be a damsel in distress, is still the headstrong girl who refused to be shaped into something delicate by the villagers. It tugs at something light and kind in Jak’s chest, scattering the aggression. “Yeah, but I have super moves remember?” he tries for sarcasm, falls a little flat, but Keira laughs, the sound as beautiful as Jak remembers.

“Alright, tough guy, I guess you can walk me home.” Keira’s voice flows just right, teasing and flirtatious, cutting through the tension.

Jak smirks, gesturing for her to go ahead before falling into step beside her. She seems steadier on her feet, strides matching his with practised ease. It’s as familiar as breathing to walk at Keira’s side. To guide her home. The streets might be different, they might be older, changed by the hardships they endured, but as they walk a comforting silence settles over them. It's not until they’ve passed through the Krimzon Square that Jak turns to face Keira.

“Why didn’t you want me to walk you home?” the words are clunky in his mouth, anxiety making the question stick to his tongue.

Keira falters, wobbling in glittery heels, but is quick to steady herself. “I'm sorry I didn't mean it like that.” She ducks her head, shame and guilt flickering in her eyes. "I'm afraid I've gotten used to doing things on my own.” Arms fold her torso, body shrinking in on itself. “I have Tess now, but for so long it was just me and sometimes beneath offers of kindness were hidden agendas.” Her gaze quickly lifts, catching Jak's wide and horrified one. “I’m sorry, Jak, I didn't mean I thought you had a hidden agenda,” she apologised, worlds tripping out of her mouth. “I'm just wary, I guess. Not of you. Never of you,” the last few words are spoken softly, woven with love and something bittersweet.

“I understand,” Jak reassured, trying to stomp down the flare of discomfort in his chest. Jak knows Keira isn't questioning his motivates, despite everything she still trusts and cares for, would never suspect him of ill intentions. It's just fear, the kind installed by acts of betrayal and brutality, is stronger than a lifetime of trust and friendship. After two years of abuse and torture, Jak knows this well. “It can't have been easy living here on your own.”

Keira hasn’t had the chance to tell Jak where she landed after the rift rider exploded. He doesn’t know how she got a job at the stadium or when she met and befriended Tess. They both have stories to tell, secrets to reveal, though Jak can’t imagine speaking of the horrors he endured. Doesn’t want to relive the trauma, set free the pain that feels like a hurricane brewing beneath his skin.

“It wasn’t,” she admitted, wringing the hemline of her dress between pale, quivering fingers, “but I survived.” Keira lets go of the velvet fabric; it falls back into place above her knees. Seamlessly as the night sky. “I missed you and daddy and Daxter terribly.” Glistening eyes gaze off to the right, searching the dark, checking for monsters. A few steps later and her emerald eyes return to Jak’s, shimmering with stars and sorrow. “I’m just glad we’re all together again.”

"Me too." And he is. Jak is grateful to be free from the Baron's prison and weekly dark eco treatments. Is thankful to be reunited with his friends. Two years without chatter and laughter were deafening. Two years without warm hugs, gentle hands to hold were cold and lonely. There were no kind smiles or bright eyes in the dark. The fortress held only cruel hearts that beat in the chest of wicked men. The only company agonised screams coming from neighbouring cells.

Jak is grateful to be free, to be standing unshackled on the streets of a liberated city, beneath a sky full of faintly glittering stars, but even freedom has a price. And that price is anguish. Is _unrest_. Jak is a patchwork of raw wounds, is frayed nerves and jagged pieces haphazardly stuck together. Bitterness coats his tongue, turning words sour and sharp. Anger burns in his veins, makes him lash out, blunt and uncaring. Fear knots a tangled mess around his heart, leaving him cold, _paralysed_ , telling him to be afraid, _terrified_ of monsters that are no longer there.

He’s falling apart, bleeding out in the dark. Despair awakens, spreading through him like a deadly disease. Jak runs from it, slaps on a cocky grin and pretends that everything is alright. Because he should be glad that he’s alive, that his friends are alive, _safe_. He shouldn’t be resentful of Keira for having a home, for having built a life without him. He shouldn’t be angry at Dax for being happy, for carving out a path for himself in this dystopian future.

But he is.

He is twisted and torn apart by anger.

A loud crash chased by a hearty roar of cheers slashes through Jak’s swarming dark cloud of thoughts. He’s pulled back into the night with a start, heart leaping into his throat, hands reaching for the morph gun which he foolishly left at the bar. Keira isn’t fazed by the sound; she’s veered off towards the garden bed that circles both sides of the Palace Square. Light pours in from the entrance of the Bazaar, it’s packed tightly with bodies that sway and jump. Drumbeats echo in the night, loud as Jak’s heart. Loud as the voices whispering in the dark.

Jak turns away from the entrance of the Bazaar, stepping out of the bright light and moving back into the shadow. Keira is inspecting something in the garden, kneeling to collect it before turning with a flourish and teetering back to him. Jak keeps his arms out at the ready, Keira’s steps are uneven, eyes hooded and hazy. She must have had a lot to drink since he last saw her at midnight. The memories of the night have begun to blur, Jak tried soothing the bitterness with bubbly champagne and shots of something foul that Sig drank like lolly water.

The alcohol fizzled from his system, glittery haze clearing from his mind all too soon. There are snapshots of clinking glasses, shaking hands that pulled away quickly like his touch burnt. Daxter was passed out on the bar; Keira was dancing with Tess while Ashelin and Torn were trying to out drink Sig. That's when Jak slunk off into the night, buzz grown cold, tongue stale and mouth dry. Wind back the clock to the beginning of the night, before the drink and crowd, before the darkness rushed in, and Jak was standing at the bar with Keira in his arms.

Everything felt like it was going to be okay in that moment. Keira looked at him with big, hopeful eyes shining with affection, called him a handsome hero which had him boldly, _bravely_ leaning in for a kiss that was sadly interrupted. Now she’s standing before him, smiling coyly and smelling faintly of cigarettes and rose geranium. The scent of the sweet oils stirs awake a deep ache, a longing for home. Keira reaches for his hand, placing a dainty dandelion in his palm. It’s as light as a feather and as yellow as the sands of Sentinel Beach, as vibrant as the sun that beat down day after day on their backs.

She’s offering something. Asking something with a flutter of lashes. Jak’s fingers close around the flower, its delicate petals pressing through the tears of his gloves to the crescent scars below. Jak inches forward. A voice hisses _don't,_ but it’s ignored, shoved aside with little care. Keira meets him halfway, lips soft and tasting faintly of raspberry. Jak kisses her eagerly, seeking a spark, expecting a skipping heart and a burst of joy.

He kisses Keira fervently and fiercely _,_ hands roughly tug her closer, desperate for warmth, _for life_ , for the magic he felt the first time they kissed her under the stars. Instead, there is just a sharp ache unfolding in his chest, a stone at the base of a tightening throat. He pulls away, Keira's lips give chase, hands tangling in hair, in fabric, tugging him back in. Their lips meet again, and all Jak feels is empty, is _hollowed out._

The kiss ends and Jak gasps, feeling corrupted lungs with frigid night air. Keira gazes up at him through shimmering pools of emerald, pink lips curl into a pleased smile. She turns away, twirling, dancing in a sea of glittering stars. She looks so damn beautiful, so free and graceful, love drunk and tipsy. It breaks Jak's heart, floods his chest with icy sorrow. Once upon a time, Keira's kiss left him alive and electric. He was a different person then, was young and care-free, bright-eyed and full of hope. Now he's older, harden by pain, irrevocably changed by the dark eco and the cruel things done to him. The boy he used to be is dead and gone, is a ghost fading away in the back of a fragile mind.

Keira is still filled with hope, is a beacon of light moving through the dark streets, so perfectly pieced together compared to the ruins she walks through. It leaves Jak mouth full of sharp things, skin prickling with jealousy. It seems unfair that she escaped the past two years without scars and trauma, that she can glide through the night in sparkling heels and look like a star plucked from the sky. Noticing that he’s lingering, Keira strides back to him, lacing her arm through his before tugging him forward.

They enter New Town a few minutes later; Keira comfortably silent and Jak choking on sharp things. The buildings rise high into the lightening sky, the smoke is clearing, carried away by the autumn winds. Jak swallows the jagged pieces, they burn and catch on the way down, sit like a nest of thorns and glass in his gut. There is something ugly and wicked coming to life within him, something different to the creature created by the dark eco, and it's terrifying. Turning into the beast is out of Jak's control, the dark eco is all-consuming, it burns hot and violent through his veins, ripping control from his grasp. The resentful thoughts are not born from dark eco, though they are just as unstable though.

Jak is torn apart over and over, mind spinning a never-ending loop of negativity, drowning him in a churning sea of dangerous thoughts. Jak doesn’t like the person he’s becoming; doesn’t like the heartless person he’s been. There’s nothing good left. Innocent was stolen by cruel hands, hope crushed beneath spike tipped boots. Everything that he once was has been snuffed out. There is only a fractured shell left, barely holding the remnants of angry, jaded renegade and the ghost of a heroic village boy. 

Jak walks in step beside Keira, supporting her weight, deaf to the words she is speaking. He used to be captivated by her, spellbound by her beauty and genius, now as they navigate their way through the winding streets, all Jak sees is everything he lost. Is the girl who moved on while he lay in the dark, trapped in a concrete cell, alone and in pain. He catches the spark of anger, exhaling it shakily into the night. Keira did what she had to survive. She found a place to sleep, a way to live, and just because she is giddy from champagne doesn't mean there isn't pain held within her heart.

She's pulling away, gliding into the light, sparkling like a diamond and scattering the ugly tangled mess of thoughts. Keira twirls, spinning back around to face him with a tender smile. Bathed in a single beam of light from a streetlamp, she looks like the most beautiful treasure the universe has to offer. Jak wants her. Wants that innocent, easy love they used to share to reawaken, to take the breath from his lungs and shatter the darkness. But the spell is broken, the party is over, and that love is nothing more than ash in the wind.

Keira’s smile wavers, spark dulling in those lovely green eyes. Arms cross tightly over a heaving chest, rejection tangible in the air. Keira turns on her heel, striding off, every step a knife sinking into Jak's broken heart. She must have seen the turmoil in his eyes, the twisted expression of confliction. Gods he wants to chase after her, spin her around, take hold of those delicate but strong hands and pour everything that is rattling through him into her. Let her feel the anguish, the maddening fear and confusion.

He follows, falls in step at her side, but now there is a wall of ice forming between them. It's still fragile, could easily be knocked down with a simple touch of fingers, a few gentle words, but if Jak keeps taking the love Keira is giving, then he will destroy her. If he doesn't let go, they are both surely going to drown. Keira's light will burn out, the spark will fade from her eyes, and Jak will be the only one to blame.

There is no other choice, he must let her go.

The concert maze has opened into the large sector where Mar's Memorial Stadium stands bright against a murky lavender sky. Keira, steps growing increasingly unsteady, eyes heavy-lidded, marches on, up the stairs and down the dimly lit corridor to her flat. Jak doesn't want the night to end like this, for Keira to go to bed broken-hearted and rejected, doesn't want to cause any more pain then he's already going to.

He takes the keys from her trembling hand, unlocking the numerous locks, heart sinking to the pit of his cold stomach. She’s been afraid, been locking out monsters and men and yet she’s about to invite one in. Jak pushes the door inward, Keira darts into the dark, knocking something over in her haste. Jak rushing in after her.

“I’m fine,” she assured, tone brisk and biting, “I just need to sleep and to take off these stupid shoes.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” he said awkwardly, blindly searching the walls for a switch. “Keira, where’s the light switch?”

Keira doesn't answer, is already disappearing down the hall, stumbling through the dark, kicking off her boots as she goes. A touch of grey dawn trickles through the windows, shifting the black hallway into shapes and doors. Jak hesitates, the air is thick with heartbreak and tears. The damage has been done, and Jak's useless tongue wouldn't be able to speak the words to fix this even if it tried. If he stays, if he follows Keira, crawls into bed beside her, then he'd only be offering false hope.

She is better off without him, will blossom and thrive in this high-tech world. Will make new friends. Will fall in love with someone else. She will be okay, once the tears dry and the heartache ends. Jak must do what's right, must set her free for she deserves so much more than he can give. He loves her enough to let her go. With a heavy heart, Jak sets the keys down on a table next to a potted Lillie and a stack of unopened mail.

“Goodnight Keira,” he whispers to the dark, throat tightening, chest aching. "I hope you can be happy again someday.” Fighting off tears, Jak gives the flat one last t meaningful look, taking in the little pieces of Keira that he can see in the pale light. Bracing himself for the pain, for the heartbreak, he steps out. Walking off into the cold, grey dawn.


	3. Where Do We Go From Here?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keira walks Jak home after finding him on the bluffs mourning Damas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feels ahead!

_In the changing wind, it echoes deep_  
_Wearing thin the heart beneath_  
_There's no place to call our own_  
_Like a drifting haze we roam_  
_Where do we go from here_

**Where do we go from here - Ruelle**

 

Keira can’t sleep, has spent half the night tossing restlessly in an unfamiliar bed, stomach knotting as maddening thoughts loop endlessly. She’d give anything to make the thoughts cease, to catch a moments sleep. She is exhausted from months of fighting, of fixing and _surviving_. War has left her worn to the bone, with scars and memories that weigh heavily upon her shoulders. She's endured months of bloodshed and attacks, has seen friends torn apart and shot down in the streets.

Keira watched helplessly as the city fell to ruins, was silenced and ignored when she pleaded for Jak’s life. She was powerless to sway the council, could only look on in horror as the life she built, carved out of lonely days and hopeless nights, shattered. There was nothing left but ash and debris. Nothing but jagged pieces to hold on to. The war raged on, good men died, and the streets ran red with blood. The people cried for a hero, but they’d sentenced theirs to death.

Of course, it would take more than a desert to kill Jak. Keira knew she’d see him again, felt it with every beat of her heart. He returned to the city three gruelling months later. Walked right through the smoke and fire, unburnt by their flames, changed by the harsh winds of the desert, shaped into a mighty warrior by the king of Spargus. Jak returned with a fiery determination, an air of calmness and a sense of maturity. The rage quivered dangerous and low beneath the surface, rising through the calm in brief bursts of gritted teeth and white knuckles. It was a shadow compared to the anger of his past.

Jak was back, was alive, it was enough to reignite hope, ease the pain that had unpacked and mad a tangled web of misery in Keira’s chest. Jak was home, was so close yet always out of reach. Unsure, stuck in fear, Keira was unable to close the gaping distance between them. The earth had split open, the crack appearing long ago, forming in the concrete floor of the garage stretching out, out, out, all the way to the barren lands of the Wasteland.

Keira tried to hold on, but Jak built towering cider block walls reinforced with steel. Keira reached, chased, and Jak pulled away, ran from her, from the pain, from the dark world they'd been carelessly tossed into. Keira failed to hold on, had no choice but to let go of the boy she once loved with every beat of her heart. She stayed close for a time, hoping he'd appear at her window late one night, the way he used to, would take her hand, lead her into the night.

He never did.

In the end, Keira set herself free. She busied herself with work, doubled her efforts to rebuild the city, spent nights at Tess’s only so she didn’t stare at the window, waiting, _hoping_. Jak grew distant, was tormented, _broken_ by the memories and nightmares. Seasons bleed and changed, Keira grows, heals, occasionally taking out the memory of Jak walking her home after the celebration at the Naughty Ottsel. Unfolds it in her mind, replays their bittersweet memory over and over until it is worn like an old film.

It was the last true moment of happiness she shared with him, the night was tinted rose-gold, glittery and swirling from the champagne and raspberry cocktails. She rejoiced in Jak's return, in the city's salvation. He walked her home like he'd done many times before as a very different boy in a very different place. Darkness clung to him, smile brittle and hiding pain. Those once summer blue eyes were now dark as stormy seas, rippling with trouble, glinting with something fierce, something dangerous.

Keira remembers the walk home in hazy fragments, remembers twirling under the streetlights and plucking a delicate yellow dandelion from one of the garden beds. She gave it to Jak, it was so small in his open palm, could be crushed with ease. He crushed her heart that night. Broke it with a fierce kiss that tasted bitter and salty, handed her hope only to rip it all away with just one look. Come morning, the heartache was a faint echo in her chest, a sourness coating her tongue. The events of last night are white-washed memories that could be tendrils of a bittersweet dream.

The kiss is never spoken of. Jak avoids her for days, only to fold and return, warm, gentle and sweet. Keira remembers that day, it was raining, the air bitingly cold. Jak walked into the garage, soaked head to toe, mood fickle, darkening as the rain pounded down harder, storm unleashing on the already battered city. Keira tried to find the heroic village boy within the ruins, was careful, cautious, gave Jak space and patience. All she got for her effort was another mile between them.

Keira can't take this anymore, is too hot, too cold, needs to stretch out the restless jitters, escape this unfamiliar space and itchy sheets. Covers are thrown back, feet slip into shoes, and she is out the door, marching away from the thoughts, from the one thing that is twisting into her gut like a thousand knives. Her feet landed heavily on the cobblestoned street, thunderous in the otherwise silent night. The citizens of Spargus are fast asleep, have drank and cried themselves into oblivion.

The wind wails mournfully as it rises off the ocean, carrying with it sorrow and heartache. The desert mourns the loss of its king, the land cries and the wind moans, a sound so sorrowful, so _haunting_ , it brings tears to her eyes. An ache beats in her heart, tugs a jagged sob from her throat that is silenced behind a balled-up fist. A scream builds in her lungs which burn like they’ve been doused in gasoline and set ablaze. Tears blur the dimly lit streets, pain chokes and suffocates.

She runs. Runs until her legs tremble and burn until she is teetering on the edge of the bluff overlooking the churning sea. Doubled over she gasps in air that feels like shards of glass sliding down her throat. Keira exhales, falls to the ground with a sinking heart, staring out at the vast ocean through watery eyes. She feels as jagged as the rocks jutting out from the black sea. Is as angry, _wild_ as the undercurrent that would capsize a boat, drowning the sailors in its murky depths.

The wind blows cold and fierce, smelling like Sandover, like home and safety, carrying the anguish far away. Keira inhales, rises to unsteady feet, casting a wary glance around the moonlight night. She doesn’t expect to see a soul, to find a dark shape hunched like a rock or a fallen tree up on the bluff. She would have walked away, spent the rest of the night tossing and turning restlessly but a force she cannot name lures her closer to the shape.

She climbs up the cliff, muscles remembering the motion, still strong even though it’s been years since she scurried up the bluffs at Sentinel Beach. It’s not too high up, but the view is breathtaking. The stars burn bright, glittering and twinkling in all their glory. The silver light of the moon crest on the waves, rippling and playing in the water. The figure slumped before her on the ledge remains unaware of her present as reaches the top. A red scarf whips about violently in the wind, familiar as the scent of salt in the air.

Keira steadies herself on the uneven terrain, steps loud enough to alert Jak to her presence. There's enough light to see the blond tips of his hair, a swath of blue fabric, but even without the moon and orange glow of the city, she would have known who it was. His anguish called to her, is wafting off him in waves. Jak seems so very small and vulnerable sitting here alone, arms wrapped tightly around his knees, a child in need of comfort.

They used to be so close. Used to be so in love. Though Jak is right here at her fingertips, he feels a thousand miles away. Anger sparks, tiny hands ball into tight fists, wanting to take a swing at the night. If Keira walked away, if she chose not to give any more time to the boy who broke her heart, it would be understandable. Jak barricaded himself in a fortress of solitude a long time ago, Keira pounded at the walls, spent months searching for secret passageways. All that desperate searching left her burnt out, left wounds and heartache.

Not so long-ago Keira fell apart, the haphazardly stuck together pieces shattering as her trauma ripped through her like a hurricane. Two years of struggling to stay alive in a city full of sinful hearts and wicked minds took its toll. Despite the sorrow that ran deep, despite the fear that coursed through her veins, freezing a fragile beating heart, Keira survived. She survived the fall, the lonely nights, the tarnished memories of Erol that twisted into nightmares. She fixed, tinkered and created. Poured anguish into projects. Set it free on winter winds so that when spring arrived, warm, full of bright colours, she could blossom with the flowers and saplings.

Keira is no longer the naïve girl who tried to repair a broken young man, isn’t the foolish girl who lashed out in fear and bitter jealousy. Though the thought of Ashelin’s betrayal stings, the anger coils in her gut, red hot and desperate for release. Keira stomps it down, soothes the flames with deep inhales of salty sea air. Jak is not hers. For a time, he was, but that was so very long ago. The world has changed, they are not same care-free kids who ran off into the night to steal first kisses under glittering stars. Perhaps once upon a time, they might have been meant for one another, when the world was kinder and brighter.

Before they were broken.

That doesn’t mean she can’t reach out, can’t attempt to close the gap between them and find a path back towards friendship. Keira steels herself against the night, the wind is brisk and the air biting, the opposite of the scorching hot day. Keira steps into the darkness. Plants herself on the cold ground to Jak's left. She feels his eyes on her skin, familiar and warm, making her heart ache. Words climb up her throat, apologies, confessions, admissions of guilt and regret competing for first place.

She’s sorry for the distance, the fights, the silence. For once believing Erol to be the good guy, for being angry that Jak was different when it wasn’t his fault. _Wasn’t his choice_. She’s sorry for everything. Is full of regret and guilt. Wants to cry for all that they’ve lost, all that was taken from them. Tears well in her eyes, the scream builds and swells, burning her lungs, but she will not cry, will not fall apart this time. Jak isn’t walking away, the walls are lowered, gaze soft and sorrowful in the dark.

She swallows the bitterness, pushes aside the jealousy and turns to face Jak, offering what she hopes is a gentle smile, though it feels brittle, slipping from her face all too quickly. Jak needs a shoulder to lean on, a friend to help carry this pain. Keira has lived in a world without her father, and it was agonising. The pain was so unbearable that it brought her to her knees, left her crying herself to sleep. The pain was all-consuming, grief enough to break even the strongest of hearts. Hope kept her going, kept her searching, seeking clues, chasing leads until they led her to Tess.

Grief isn't as suffocating when there's a friend to lean on, to encourage and support even when the world feels like its crashing down. If comfort is all she can offer to Jak right now, if a friend is all she can be, then she'll take it gratefully. Her life is incomplete without him. She misses his smile, the way he rolls his eyes and chuckles behind his hand. Jak is home, is memories of summer nights sneaking out to catch fireflies, staying up to watch the sun paint the sky a delicate lavender that bled into vibrant oranges and pinks.

Keira exhales the swirling thoughts, if she doesn't speak now, then the night will slip away, Jak with it.

“Can’t sleep?” she asked, hesitant and quiet.

When Jak doesn't answer, she's afraid the wind carried her voice away, but then he shakes his head, the silent no holding more pain than any words ever could. He looks so fragile, so paper thin in the blue-black light of the night. Like a lost soul who’ll break apart in the wind. She’s seen this troubled, _haunted_ look before, has watched storms rage in his eyes, destroying him silently from within. Jak’s anguish is quiet and heavy in the air, is evident in the desperate way Jak clutches at himself like he too fears the wind will blow him away. 

“Do you want to talk about?” Keira braces for the snarl, for the gruff voice and cutting words. Is used to Jak walking away. Tonight, with the ocean breeze cresting over them, he stays.

“It’s my fault.” His gaze slips to his hands, fingers curling and uncurling. “Damas’s death, it’s my fault.”

“Jak, it’s not your fault.” Keira hasn’t heard the full story, only bits and pieces from Daxter, but what she does know is that Damas saved Jak’s life. He and Daxter were no match for the Dark Makers and had Damas not shown up when he did then they’d both be dead and Erol would have annihilated the entire planet. It’s not fair that Jak had to suffer another loss, but it’s not his fault.

"But it is.” He rises to his feet, storming towards the ledge. "I was driving, I called him for help… if I hadn't-"

“-Then you wouldn’t be standing here,” Keira cuts in, getting to her feet and walking tentatively towards Jak, not wanting to frighten or cage him. “And neither would I.” Her words slice through the crisp air, crash into Jak. He lifts his head, revealing eyes that glisten with torment and tears. “I’m sorry you lost Damas, it’s not fair.” She steps closer, waiting for the right moment to reach out. “I know this won’t make you feel any better or lesson your pain, but Damas didn’t die in vain. The world is still here because of him. Because of you, Jak.”

Jak tears his gaze away, chest swelling with a repressed sob, body trembling with the effort to keep it sealed behind tightly closed lips. A single tear trickles free, trailing down his cheek to his chin, dripping into the ocean that lashes at the bluffs jagged edges far below. Keira hasn’t seen him cry since they were children. Jak used to be silent when he wept, sobs rattling through him without a sound, sometimes so violent Keira feared they’d break him apart.

“It’s not your fault, Jak.” Words aren’t going to erase Jak’s pain, only time can heal a wound as deep as this, but Keira won’t stop reminding him that it wasn’t his fault. She knows how guilt can fester, can spread poison and lies that whisper late at night. “It’s not your fault,” she repeats; voice unwavering, refusing to let Jak drown, to believe he is to blame.

“He died in my arms.” Jak’s voice is full of loss and despair. He's trying to keep his breathing steady, lips quivering like he’s about to lose the fight. “He died without knowing who I was.” Jak's face crumples, all that carefully masked pain pouring out, etching in every line and fold of his young face. A strangled cry escapes into the wind, mournful and haunting. Jak shudders and breaks, sobs a thunderous, _heartbreaking_ sound. 

Keira's arms instinctively wrap around Jak's trembling frame, holding him close. Keeping him safe from the wind that whips around them, threatening to carry him away to somewhere she cannot follow. Daxter hadn't mentioned that Damas died in Jak's arms, but he did reveal the part Veger played. Anger burns in her gut, fierce and just. Veger should be sent to the gallows for what he’s done, not gifted with the magic of the Precursors, not able to go free while Jak once more falls apart because of the wicked deeds carried out by a cruel man.

It’s is horrifically unfair. Is the cruellest of fates.

Jak deserves more than this. Deserved more than grief and another burden to bear. The Precursors made worlds, created life and shaped destinies, they offered Jak the universe when all he needed was a soul returned. Keira can only hold Jak as he weeps, whispers soothing nonsense as comes undone. Anguish knocks him down, smothering the last embers to ash. Keira feels the snap, the give before the fall and braces herself for impact.

Strings cut, strength burnt out, down Jak goes. Knees sink into rock, body tipping sideways as the universe tosses him aside, no longer a puppet to make dance, to tug along and carry out destinies that are just too much to live up to. Keira falls with him, and Jak clings to her. Keira’s never heard him make such broken sounds, never felt sorrow, _anguish_ so strong that it became one with the wind. It wails like a banshee, spreading Jak's pain to every corner and home in Spargus. Sending it out to sea and beyond the walls to the Wasteland.

Keira cradles her broken hero as he weeps, setting years’ worth of pain and trauma free. Tears dampen her skin, quivering fingers lace through hers, desperate for touch, _comfort_. Keira feels every painful hitch of breath and erratic heartbeat. The wind howls fiercely, tugging at clothing and hair, kicking up sand and grit. Keira closes stinging eyes, lowering her head until it’s resting against Jak’s. He curls around her, clutching at her like a lifeline.

Keira hums an old nursery rhyme plucked from a faded memory; she doesn’t remember the lyrics, but the tune is woven within her chest. Is familiar as the air in her lungs. She hums softly, close to Jak’s ear, so the wind doesn’t snatch the sound away. Jak's sobs quieten to sniffles, tears ebbing to a trickle. The wind hums in harmony, and Jak's breathing evens out. Keira lifts her head, staring down into glassy eyes that hold the weight of the world beneath heavy lids. It's time to get Jak home, tuck him into a warm bed that is surrounded by sandstone walls. That will keep him safe from the wind that feels like its calling to him.

Luring him away. 

“Let's get you to bed, hm?” Keira murmured, not wanting to disturb the quiet of the night. “I'll walk you home.” 

Jak blinks, slow and sluggish, sitting up in stuttered movements. He lets out a shaky breath, wipes the tears from his face and gets to his feet, offering Keira a hand. She accepts it, can see Jak is a little unsteady, fidgeting with restless energy despite looking dead on his feet. She isn't sure how to navigate through this. Jak used to turn to her when he was upset, but that was so long ago, and the problems of their childhood pale in comparison compared to the pain they've been dealt the past three years.

She can’t, she _won’t_ leave Jak to drown in the turmoil that churns like a storm in his eyes. Keira knows what it’s like to be capsized in wild seas, left adrift without a lifeline or light to guide the way home. Jak sways, lashing fluttering as another wave of tears stream down his face. He’s tired and broken, hurting in so many ways. Any anger Keira felt earlier towards Jak blows away on the ocean breeze, all that’s left is a need to make this right. To take the pain from Jak’s eyes.

“Hey,” she reaches out through the dark night, cupping Jak’s face, thumb catching a tear as it trails down his face. “Tell me about him?”

The question echoes on the wind, circling around them as Keira’s breath catches in her lungs. The waves crash and thrash down below, Jak’s nose crinkles as he sniffles, voice coming out rough and raw when he finally speaks. He tells Keira everything as they make their way through the dimly lit streets. From his first heated encounter with Damas to the bittersweet moment of praise right before the end. He speaks of Damas’s kindness, of his bravery unwavering strength. Jak’s voice grows stronger as he talks, words warm and layered with open admiration, eyes glistening with a quiet, wholehearted fondness.

Keira listens to every word, chest swelling with joy at Jak’s tales. Damas truly cared for him. He saw a person beneath the trauma, a gentle, kind soul in need of nurturing, of healing. Damas glimpsed past the angry, renegade soldier, saw the scared, broken child within. He gave counsel and comfort, encouraged the hero to step back into the light. Damas believed in Jak, inspired him, moulded him into a fierce warrior. He gave Jak hope.

Reignited a spark.

Jak talks all the way home, filling the night with stories that make Keira laugh, smile until her face hurts. He doesn’t just talk about Damas, he tells her about Seem and the monks, who speak in riddles and wave their hands around like they are weaving magic. He speaks briefly of the gruff mechanic Kleiver and the day he raced against him. Jak admits, with a smug smile, that he won, and it reminds Keira of the cocky errand boy who swaggered into her garage, seeking revenge and thriving on chaos.

The serenity and wisdom of the desert have calmed Jak’s rage, Damas’s mentoring and nurture have tamed the reckless rebel. Time and distance have given Jak the chance to tend to his wounds, to dig deep and cut out the poison. As they near Jak’s sandstone shack, which is ramshackle and weather-worn, Keira realises that Spargus is perfectly suited for Jak. It's rough around the edges, surrounded by endless rolling dunes to race through, located close to a tranquil oasis and wedged on the edge of a wild sea. It offers action and adventure, forgotten temples to explore and search for secrets and treasure. 

It’s golden, beautiful and ragged, just like Jak. Its people are outcasts and misfits, covered in battles scars and holding painful stories in their hearts. It offers a freedom Haven could never give Jak. It gave Jak a fresh start, a clean slate, a chance to rebuild from the ground up. Here, in this barren land, Jak wasn’t an eco-freak, wasn’t an ex-renegade soldier. He was just like everyone else, battled scarred and full of harrowing tales that could break a heart.

This city, which rises up from the land like the Gods called it forth from the earth, is Jak’s home. Jak’s planted roots here, the scorched soil nourishing them, giving him a solid foundation to stand on. Here is where Jak will continue to grow. Will heal despite his broken heart. Damas might be gone, but his presence is felt in the wind, in the ground beneath their feet, in the waves crashing against the shore and the pale light of the moon.

Damas lives on in his people. In Jak.

Keira follows Jak up the slanted, narrow staircase, eyes catching missing nails, shining white seashells and rotting timber. Supplies must be hard to come by out here; the steps appear to be made of a combination of driftwood and salvaged metal. The craftsmanship is precise, but the harsh weather hasn’t been kind to the wood. The stone walls have fared better, Keira runs her hand over the cold granite, fingers coming away tacky and covered in grit.

Keira would enjoy learning how about how Spargus came to be, the city must have been here long before Damas’s banishment, surely a few people couldn’t carve out sandstone like this. It would have taken years to build this desert kingdom. Spargus is ancient and beautiful, though the weather has been unkind to anything not made of sand or stone and it needs repair after the Dark Makers attacked. Keira thinks she could breathe life back into this forgotten city. The idea excites her. Haven has become suffocating with its smog-filled skies and war-torn streets. She misses the sun and the sand, the adventure the wilderness brings.

Keira isn’t a rough and tough warrior; she is frail and thin compared to the women of the Wasteland, but she’s not like the women of Haven either. Spargus isn’t her home, it’s not in her blood the way it is in Jak’s, but she thinks she’d like to stay. To grow and heal under the beating sun, with the ocean breeze catching at her hair, cooling and calming. Maybe she’ll get a scarf like Jak’s. Let the wind tug it, tug her in a direction that leads to someplace bright.

Someplace safe and sound.

Keira sighs wearily, fantasy blowing away like smoke, tendrils unable to be held onto. The night comes into focus, frigid night air settling on her skin, not biting, but enough to prickle. Yellow light spills out from inside Jak’s hut into the night. He stands in the doorway, casually leaning against the frame, sorrow faded from his eyes, tears dried by the wind.

“Why were you out here?” he asked out of the blue, head cocked to the side, brows furrowed in that mildly concerned way of his.

"I couldn’t sleep," she replied honestly, “so I went to get some air and then I saw you on the bluffs.” She shrugs, trailing off as her gaze lands on a moth that hovers just out of reach of the porch light.

“Keir, are you okay?” Jak’s voice is so soft, so full of concern and warmth that it makes tears well up in her eyes.

Quickly she blinks them away, ducking her head to hide behind windswept hair. Arms wind unconsciously around her torso, gripping tight in a pitiful attempt of comfort. “Yeah, I’m fine.” She kicks at a shell; it rolls and clatters down the wonky wooden steps. “I should go, it’s late and-”

“-Keira,” he interrupts, voice gentle but firm.

Keira hesitates, stubborn and full of uncertainty that crashes with every other emotion jostling through her chest. The moth flutters into her line of sight, its wings beating as frantically as her heart. With a deep, unsteadying breath, she meets Jak’s eyes, arms falling limply to her sides. Jak leans across the threshold, warm, calloused hands finding their way to her cold cheeks. Keira’s breath catches in her throat, heart stuttering beneath her ribs. The night turns silent and still. Jak closes the space between them, capturing her lips in a quiet, desperate kiss that tastes of pain and salt. Keira kisses back, fervent and urgent, hands clinging to Jak, body pressing close, seeking his warmth, craving the touch of his skin. For a moment she forgets everything, the heartache, the distance, the fights and their last kiss that tasted just like this.

Jak kisses her and time turns back, placing them under a glittering night sky, in the shadow of a wild jungle and the glow of mystic flowers. And then the gentle pressure is gone. The night crashes back in like a hurricane. The air rushes from Keira’s lungs, expelling from her burning chest with such force it leaves her dizzy. Eyes flutter open, the world tilting and wilting. Jak stays unmoving, unaffected by the rippling edges and maddening spin. His blue eyes, like the ocean after a storm, her only focal point.

“Jak…” she breathes, name breaking apart on the desert wind.

He leans back in, cold nose brushing against hers, hot breath ghosting across her flushed skin. She turns her head, fingers curling and uncurling in time with the waves of anger. The heat overtakes, ties a knot in her gut. She is furious, how could he kiss Ashelin only to turn around and kiss her, how _dare_ he hurt her like this again. Keira shoves Jak away, he stumbles, wounded gaze begging for understanding.

“K-Keira,” he stutters. Gods, he hasn’t stuttered in years. “I’m s-sorry, I d-didn’t mean to upset you.”

Jak’s jagged words break her heart, cut it right in half, leave it bleeding out into the night. Bitter tears gather in her eyes, lungs constrict around the scream that's been building since she heard the whispers. Saw the subtle touches. The lingering looks. Jak gravitated towards Ashelin the way he used to gravitate towards her.

Keira wants to scream. Wants to shout for all the times no one heard her. She feels betrayed, replaced. Cast aside like they didn't spend ten years growing and playing beside each. Wishing on stars and dreaming of a future together. But they were just foolish kids caught up in the rose-tinted haze of first love. Now they were on the cusp of adulthood, the world coloured grey, splashed red with the loss of innocence. 

“Oh, you didn't mean to upset me?” And in this moment, as the wind spiked in a howl of fury, Keira forgets Jak's sorrow. “Well, I'm upset Jak. You hurt me!” Her voice raises, shrill and cut through with anguish. “You gave me hope, just like you are now, and then you took it away. You pushed me away time and time again.” The anger ebbs and flows, twisting and untwisting in her gut as empathy fights for control. “I understand that you were hurting, that you went through things I could never imagine, so I gave you space, time to heal, but you weren’t the only one who was hurting.”

The words pour out, ripping from her throat. “I was alone and afraid in an unfamiliar, _unforgiving_ world.” Her voice quivers, chest hitching with a broken sob. “I know I messed up when I first saw you. I messed up with Erol and hurt you by siding with him, and I'm so sorry that I did that.” The tears are sharp glass falling down her face, bitter and overdue. “Gods, Jak, you broke my heart.” Her confession hangs in the air, heavy and loaded.

Keira’s shoulders slump, head falling into her hands to hide the shame. Jak is silent. She can hear his uneven breaths, feet shuffle and clothes rustle. Keira lifts her head, finding two dark eyes staring back. Jak looks gutted, looks even more broken than he did at the start. He swallows thickly, arms winding tightly around his chest, gaze glistening and begging. His bottom lip quivers, chest heaving as he tries to steady his breathing. He looks so confused, so hurt and guilt-stricken. It's only then that Keira realises Jak doesn't know where the true source of her anger is coming from.

“Seriously, you thought I didn't notice?” Her tone is biting, leaving no room for Jak to speak, to explain himself. “I'm not blind, Jak. I've noticed you and Ashelin grow closer.” Rage bleeds to heartache, tears of broken dreams spilling into the night. “I've seen the way you look at her, the way she looks at you. There is _something_ between you two.” She forces herself to hold his gaze. It hurts, it's so Goddamn much. “And it's okay. I want you to be happy. You deserve to be happy Jak.”

All the air leaves her lungs, they burn and constrict around her bleeding, broken heart. There’s an agonising moment of silence before Jak speaks, voice thin, almost hollow as he confesses that the kiss was a mistake. His words slash at her, sting and hurt in indescribable ways. Keira’s gaze falls to the ground, resting with the sand and seashells that have somewhere ended up at Jak's door. 

"Why did you do it then?" She asked, chest rattling, screaming swelling.

"I thought I felt something for her, but when she kissed me, I didn't feel what I felt with you,” Jak explains, answer not what Keira was expecting. He must have misread her expression, thought she was asking why he kissed her, not Ashelin. The truth ignites an ember in Keira's barely beating heart. “I'm sorry Keira, I shouldn't have assumed you hadn't noticed, or you didn't know about the kiss. It truly meant nothing. I was full of adrenaline, and I just kissed her. I fucked up.” He admits, deflating and defeated. "I'm so sorry, Keira. I’m just still so messed up.”

“Jak, hey, no, you are not messed up.” She takes his face into her hands, anger scattered by the self-loathing present in Jak’s voice. “You're hurting, you’re _grieving,_ and it's okay to be confused at a time like this." Keira’s heart breaks for him, for herself, chest growing cold from guilt. “I’m sorry too, I shouldn’t have lashed out. I just felt…” the word climbs up her throat, jagged and sharp, “I felt like you replaced me.”

“Keira,” he says her name like a prayer, whispered and sacred, “you’re irreplaceable. I wish I realised that sooner and I’m sorry I ever made you feel that way.” He shakes his head, eyes closed against the tears. “When I kissed Ashelin all I could think of was you. I remembered our first kiss, how it felt electric like blue eco, powerful like red and orange and grounding like green.” Eyes flutter open, burning and swirling, half stormy seas, half calm waters. “But I’m not confused anyone more,” he declared, voice leaving no room for argument, “I know what my heart wants. Now more than ever.”

"And what’s that?” She whispered; breath held in her chest.

“You.”

This is said with so much certainty, so much warmth and truth and love that Jak’s voice reverberates in the air, seeps right down to Keira’s bone and fragile soul. Fans the ember into a spark that Keira desperately wants to turn into a fire. But she's not foolish enough to rush back in. Last time they tried to pick up where they left off, and they fell apart because of it. She is not ready to be Jak's, and he's not ready to be hers. They are barely standing, wounds still raw and bleeding.

"I want you to Jak,” his eyes brighten, hope burning like a flame in a churning sea. "But we can't be together." His face falls, darkness rushing in to smother the light. "Not yet, at least. I need time to process, and you need time to grieve.”

She doesn’t say that she needs time to forgive, in her heart she knows Jak’s choices haven’t always been well thought through, that trauma has governed his actions and behaviour for quite some time. Keira knows she is not innocent, has caused Jak pain and heartache, kissed him when she shouldn’t’ have. And it’s only now, in the wake of this maddening kiss that she realises the one they shared after the celebration at Daxter’s was too soon.

Keira wanders what Jak felt that night, what he felt when he kissed Ashelin, it must have been something like clarity because it brought him back to her. Tonight, is not the time for these questions, Keira is wreaked from months of bloodshed and trauma. Jak is grieving, is barely holding together. He is looks lost, _shattered._ Keira pulls Jak into arms, he buries his face in her neck, arms wrapping tightly around her small frame. This is what they need, touch, comfort. A person to lean on, a shoulder to cry on. A friend to walk them home. 

"Where do we go from here?” Jak mumbles into the skin of her neck.

“We work on ourselves, on our friendship,” she leans back, holding Jak at arm’s length. “Last time we rushed right back in without dealing with our trauma, and we fell apart because of it.” Jak’s gaze clouded in shame, guilt shimmering in blue depths. “We still have a lot of healing and growing to do.” And they do, there are rivers and roads to go before they can be more than the fragile, broken messes they are right now. “But this time, let's grow together, not apart.”

Keira squeezed his fingers reassuringly, the silent gesture bringing a soft smile to Jak’s face. Keira’s words have shifted something, have freed Jak of the guilt he never needed to harbour. The young man standing before her is no longer the fragile boy she found sitting on the bluff, who only moments ago stood before her with tears and heartache in his eyes. Pain has been sent free, grief has been felt, given to the night to be held and healed. There’s a long, winding road of recovery ahead of them, but the chasm is closing. They might be parting ways tonight, but their path is once more realigned.

“I’d like that,” Jak says, voice warm and gentle, smile growing stronger. The weight of the world lifting from his shoulders.

The wind whips around them, tugging at them, but not tearing them apart. Keira draws Jak in for one last kiss, it’s bittersweet, tastes of heartache and tears. But this isn't goodbye. There will be no more distance between them, no more walls and wars. This time things will be different. This time they'll walk side by side, in harmony, out of this dark place and into the light where love can grow.

 


	4. This is Where We Come Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jak walks Keira home after returning from Kras City

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, at the end at last! Thank you so much to everyone who read, commented and left kudos on this fic, you're encouragement means the world to me :) No doubt I will be shortly with some more Jakeira or Jak and Daxter fics, until then thank you and enjoy!
> 
> PS: I didn't remember that Jak and Keira would have had bags with them from travelling until the end of the chapter, so they are a last-minute add-in lol

_I can see the future_   
_Painted in my eyes_   
_Open up the door and_   
_Fade into the light_

_Dive into a world I know_   
_Take my hands and_   
_Follow me into the sun_   
_There's no end 'cause_

_This is where we come alive_

**This is where we come alive - Ruelle**

**~~**

Haven City is a nest of bright lights glowing in the distance, beautiful and glittering against the indigo night sky. Without the towering walls Haven is visible from the sea, is a shining beacon of hope in a world full of danger and madness. Jak never thought he’d find beauty in Haven’s concrete buildings and urban streets; never thought he’d gaze at it with a warm smile and one word in his mind; _home._ It took a long time for Haven to feel like home, to be a place that offered security and comfort. Ashelin tore down the walls separating it from the world, allowing light, _hope_ to be carried in on the fresh ocean breeze.

Haven City sparked back to life, grew into the bustling, lively city that nears ever closer.

Jak grips the railing as the ship rocks in choppy waters. Cold air bites at exposed skin, is electric with the left-over energy from the storm just passed. Most of the passengers are inside where it's warm, where there are comfortable seats and a bar selling top-shelf whiskey and expensive wine. His friends are celebrating their victories and the end of the Kras City Grand Championship, are savouring the finer things before reality settles over them.

Jak's just glad to be alive. Is glad his friends are safe and returning home still in one piece. He's still furious at himself for not seeing the threat when it arrived in a pristine gold envelope. Krew was nothing but trouble when he was alive, and even more despicable in death, and Rayn was no better. Fingers tighten on the railing, metal buckling beneath the iron grip. Jak exhales, letting the dark eco fizzle out, feeling the anger leave his lungs, float away in plumes of breath.

Fingers lessen their grip, revealing the damage; the metal is deeply dented, a little longer, and it would have snapped. Better a railing then himself. Jak spent the better half of the last year learning to control the rage, finding better ways to soothe the beast within. Seem taught him to be still, to be calm. They dedicated many days to teaching him how to unknot the rage, how to breathe through the panic attacks and quiet anxious thoughts. It took time, patience and strength Jak wasn't sure he had, but in the end, he found a sliver of peace within himself. Each day he tended to that, found time to sit in nature, unwind restless thoughts and jittery nerves. He's still a work in progress, but he's miles better than he was at the start.

Damas would be proud.

He'd probably also be angry that Jak didn't listen to the warning bells that chimed the moment he opened the letter, finding a neatly written invitation within. Curiosity called to him, compelling him to pack his things, grab Daxter and brazenly march into Kras City like he owned the place. Perhaps being the heir to two cities went to his head, maybe he's just too used to living in cities where he is relatively safe. He'll never make that mistake again, but he's also not going to brood over it. Jak's spent enough days trapped in sorrow and despair, has grieved and shattered apart more times than anyone at such a young age should.

There are better things to focus on, like the beautiful girl who just materialised at his side, shivering in the cold and wrestling turquoise locks into a messy bun. Jak shrugs off his jacket, draping it over Keira's slender shoulders. She smiles at him in thanks, threading her arms through the long sleeves. It engulfs her petite frame, but Jak enjoys the sight of her in it. There is a flutter in his chest, warmth tugging at something pleasant and familiar. Even with all the chaos, death and destruction, Jak still managed to find his way back to her.

Keira gazes out at the city, the lights reflect in her eyes, painting the perfect picture of a life Jak feared he’d never have. Never deserved. Long ago, when Jak was in pieces and the sky was full of smoke, he broke Keira’s heart. He kissed her and gave her hope; took it away and crushed it just as fast. He was hurting and broken in so many ways, was bitter and angry at the world, at the people who loved him. The darkness hollowed him out, turned him into someone cold, jagged and dangerous.

It was too painful to feel, to love. A kingdom of desolation opened within Jak's chest, feeding off misery, thriving on nightmares. Restless anger turned into bad habits, into foolish decisions. Thorns prickled at his skin, a sharp, poisonous shield protecting him from the world. Touch was not welcome, comfort was overwhelming, kindness resented. Jak flinched at concerned tones, ran from those who cared, ran just so he didn't have to stand still, because if he stopped, if only for a second, then he'd fall apart.

And heroes aren’t meant to fall apart.

The ship rocks as the last of the rough seas settle to calmer waters. Brisk ocean air settles on Jak’s bare arms, chilling to the bone. Hesitantly, nervously, Jak slips an arm around Keira’s waist, seeking her warmth. She gravitates towards him, arms winding around him, burying her in the fabric of his shirt. Tension drains from heavy shoulders, a contented sigh escapes into the night, playing with wispy tendrils of turquoise hair.

Tired blue eyes flutter shut as arms tighten around the world’s most precious treasure. Jak breathes in the sweet scent of Keira’s tropical scented shampoo, daring a kiss to the crown of her head. Keira hums softly in his arms, kissing at the space right above his thudding heart.

“It’s nice to be home,” Keira murmurs against his chest, fingers lazily stroking at his back, running over tight, knotted muscles.

“Yeah, it is.”

Haven isn’t Jak’s home, not really. He lives between the urban city and the desert kingdom, has a ramshackle hut in Spargus and a tiny spare room at Daxter’s new place in Haven. Jak prefers the freedom of the Wasteland over the city, loves the endless expanse of wild dunes and the thrill of hunting Metal Heads and marauders, loves exploring ruins and finding artefacts. Jak made a life in Spargus, filled the sandstone hut with relics and treasures, put books on the shelves and clothes in the cupboards, but he also has a favourite mug and a toothbrush at Daxter’s. He's the boy with two homes, with two cities to his name, but home isn’t four walls or a house or a room filled with belongings.

Home is the girl in his arms, and it’s so very nice to be home.

**~~**

The solid ground beneath Jak’s feet is comforting, _steadying_ after the long journey home from Kras City. The air smells of fumes and algae, the port quiet and almost eerie in the late hours of the night. Haven might be a different place under Ashelin's rule, but its streets and darkened alleyways aren't free of crime. After receiving daily death threats for the past three months, Jak is unable to shrug off the sense of unease. Even the faintest sound, the slightest flutter of movement puts him on edge. Logically, there is nothing and no one in this city who could pose a threat to him, even exhausted Jak could still take some petty thug in a fight, but it’s going to take some time for the constant level of fear to subside.

The swell of panic, the tug of fear is discomforting but familiar. Jak’s used to being in danger, every new place is surveyed for exists and objects that could be used as weapons, every new face is scrutinised and held at arm’s length until proven trustworthy. Operating like the world is about to attack is exhausting, is isolating and lonely at times, but letting his guard down could be a fatal error. There are only a handful of places where the walls come down, a few safe spaces where the armour falls away.

But Haven Port is not one of them. The dock is cast in a pale light and covered in a thin layer of mist; the shadowy edges are held at bay by only a handful of streetlights and a flashing neon sign. The anxious beat of his heart isn’t because he’s afraid of the dark or the long walk home. It’s for Keira, who is far too vulnerable to be left alone in the night. Daxter and everybody else have headed off in different directions. Samos has seemingly vanished, leaving Keira to walk home alone. Keira has a mean swing on her, Jak knows this from firsthand experience, and she's certainly no damsel, but he's not going to let her walk home alone at this hour.

Keira is standing in a sea of mist, bathed in the white glow of a streetlight. A firefly fluttering in the air has caught her attention, its golden wings glitter in the light. Keira watches the small creature flitter about, expression fond, eyes glimmering with memories of a childhood that feels so long ago. Keira’s gaze follows the golden bug until it disappears into the fog. She sighs wearily, fastening Jak’s racer jacket over her shivering frame. It’s late, it’s cold, and the darkness is free of monsters and men. It’s time to go home.

Jak closes the space between them, coming to stand in the light at Keira’s side, holding her gaze as he asks, “would you like me to walk you home?” 

Her tired smile lights up, body gravitating towards his, leaving only a fraction of space that is filled with warmth and electricity. “I’d like that,” she replied, reaching for his hand, fingertips just visible in the swath of dark fabric.

Jak takes her hand, rolling up the cuffs to her wrist then repeating the process. Satisfied, he nods to himself, lips curling on their own accord into a soft smile. It's been a while since he's felt anything close to contented happiness, the cameras always caught the composed, aloof racer with the devil may care smirk. Behind closed doors, in the suffocating space of motel rooms, the panic unleashed. Enemies circled, evading and menacing. Razor’s smoke-tainted smile and smug attitude reminded Jak of Erol, plucked out frayed and almost forgotten memories, turning them into nightmares.

Death was at every turn, was scrawled on paper notes and shoved under doors, was following in the shadows, clawing through his veins. If he failed, if he let the fear and the panic paralyse him, then everyone he cared about would die. So, he took all the fear and panic and channelled into fury, into fuel. When the cameras rolled, when the lights flashed, he was calm, was fierce and fearless, was the hero everyone wanted to see. There are no cameras anymore, no microphones shoved under his nose, attached to the arm of an insufferable man.

There’s just Keira, who is safe and trustworthy, who saw right through the façade. She kept him grounded, spared every moment she could to make sure he was okay. Even if it was just a few words of encouragement, a quick touch of fingers or a reassuring glance. Keira stood steadfast at his side, braved swarms of cameras and endless threats that had Jak's blood boiling, gut-twisting in disgust, in cold dread.

All that's behind them. Kras City is an ocean away, and Mizo is dead, his empire in shambles. It's over. There's a new dawn rising, the life Jak's been chasing waiting just around the bend. Fear and anger belong in the past, it won't do him any good to carry it with him into the future. He exhales, deep and slow, letting panic and guilt and regret drift away on the ocean wind, feeling the tangled knot of emotions release into the night. He embraces the warmth threading through his chest, the flutter in his stomach and the desire to draw Keira in for a kiss.

She sighs against his mouth, hands cupping his face as she holds him a moment longer, savouring the sweetness. Jak deepens the kiss, tangles calloused fingers in silky strands of hair, placing his free hand on the curve of her hip. The frigid night air is chased from Jak’s veins, leaving a trail of heavenly fire. Keira’s touch tethers him to her, is grounding and electric, leaves him shivering and seeking more. Kissing Keira feels right again.

Jak _feels_ right again.

Keira’s heart beating steadily against Jak’s chest is a reminder that she is alive, that she isn't going anywhere. This is it; this is the beginning they’ve chased for years, have shattered and thrown away because they were too young and foolish to realise broken pieces don’t fit together. Not without some help, without growth.

Jak’s lungs are screaming for air, pleasant heat turning slightly uncomfortable as a wave of dizziness overcomes him. The kiss ends, Jak’s lips tingle, skin flushed and feverish, tongue tasting of something sweet. Keira’s breath ghosts warmly over his lips, eyes still closed, lost in her moment of bliss. Jak nuzzles his nose against hers, the skin startling cold. He places a kiss to the cold tip, reaching down to tangle their fingers together.

“Let's get you home,” Jak says softly, not wanting to break the spell that has fallen over them.

Keira nods, eyes hooded and glistening, dark lashes fluttering against the fatigue. They are both in need of rest, of falling asleep beneath a mound of covers; safe and sound in their own beds. Jak tugs Keira gently forward, keeping his hand securely in hers as he guides them into the night.

******

Jak's been steadily falling back in love with Keira for the past six months. He doesn't think he ever fell entirely out of love with her, but there was a period where he couldn't feel that love. He couldn't feel anything but resentment and anger. It twisted and coiled through him, burning alongside the dark eco, tearing him apart until there was nothing left. The anguish and the rage and the bitterness hollowed him out, took everything good and bright and locked it away.

He stayed in the darkness for a very long time. 

Eventually, he returned to the light, edges sharp and wounds only half-healed. For a time Jak found peace in Spargus, found support and hope in Damas, a new home in the desert kingdom. It didn't last long enough. Grief tore through him like a hurricane, making him foolish and reckless. For a time, the darkness returned, full of bitter sorrow and misguided rage. Before it came rushing back in to claim him, Jak found himself on the bluffs, breaking apart in Keira's arms.

Jak desperately wanted to feel something that night, to find something, _anything_ to replace the agonising grief that ached with every breath. So, he kissed Keira. Kissed her because she was there, was so damn beautiful and real and if he didn't, then he might just vanish. He kissed her and felt the world stop, felt all the jumbled, jagged pieces fall back into place. There was clarity and serenity, and suddenly, Jak didn't feel like the wind would blow him away.

It wasn't the right thing to do, but Jak never regrated kissing Keira that night. It was cruel and unfair to Keira, but that reckless, bold choice paved the way back to their friendship. The sting of rejection hurt. Felt like a slap to the face and a knife to the heart, but Keira was right to walk away. Was right, like she so often is, when she said they needed to be friends again before they could be more. It killed Jak to let her go, took the last remaining strength from his frozen bones.

The door had barely closed, Jak’s back pressed against the wood, legs buckling as he crumpled to the floor. He wept for the second time that night, all those put together pieces shattering over the stone flooring. In the morning, sore, red eyes fluttered open to find the harsh light of day filtering into the room. The heat prickled Jak’s sweat-soaked skin, uncomfortable and stifling. Staying in bed, hiding away seemed more appealing than getting up, then facing the day and the grief-stricken Wastelanders, but he’d come to far just to give up now.

Damas would tell him to get up, to keep fighting even though it hurt.

And that’s exactly what Jak did.

He got up and marched on like the warrior Damas taught him to be.

Now, after breakdowns and breakthroughs, Jak is back in Haven, under a hazy sky, with the girl he loves at his side. Falling back in love with Keira was inevitable. There was a place curved out in Jak’s heart for her, a space in his life where she belonged. It took time to repair the damage, to relearn how to be friends, how to work together. _Fit together_. It happened gradually, through stolen glances, subtle touches and late-night conversations about everything and nothing.

They rebuilt their friendship from the ground up, pouring a solid foundation to stand on, to _build_ on. It wasn't perfect in the beginning, the was a lot of pain in need of healing, a lot of stories that needed to be told, but over time the wounds healed, words thawed. Jak stopped feeling awkward and uncertain, felt the sparks of friendship burst back to life, making him eager to spend time with Keira. The strained conversation returned to playful banter, to deep and meaningful conversations that stretched out well into the late hours of the night.

Then one rainy Sunday afternoon, when the world was quiet and still, Jak felt it, the butterflies and drumbeat heartbeat, felt the breath evaporate from his lungs, leaving him dizzy. Something shifted in that moment, the light seemed a little brighter, the air a little sweeter. Keira was oblivious to Jak staring at her, was elbows deep in an engine, covered in grease and talking excitedly about her next project. She wanted to make bionic limbs, to study neural prosthetics and give hope to amputees.

The feeling rushed over Jak like a tidal wave, stirring awake frayed and worn memories that belonged to an innocent young boy who fell in love in a similar way. It knocked into him, scared him to death while simultaneously making him feel so very alive. In the space of a heartbeat, in the space between raindrops landing on the roof, Jak fell back in love with Keira. And he's been falling ever since. Would have told her a lot sooner had it not been for fear of rejection.

Then they were summoned to Kras City, poisoned and forced to race for their lives. Telling Keira then seemed wrong. He didn't want to speak those three precious, powerful words in a city that listened to every whisper, revealed every secret. It would have been all too easy for Mizo and his thugs to use Keira against him, so Jak kept his distance when the cameras rolled, and the lights flashed. In the rare moments where they alone, safe and out of sight, Jak offered whatever reassurance he could to Keira.

He vowed to win, to save their lives.

And he did.

He saved the day and got the girl, kissed her under the bright lights of the Bloody Hook for all to see. It wasn't like the time he kissed her under a smoke-filled sky, it didn't leave him hollow, tongue tasting bittersweet. This kiss made his heart skip a beat, had his chest swelling with joy. It was fireworks and bliss. Stilled the world and quietened his mind. Sent him back in time, to their very first kiss. This was it; this moment was years in the making, was their beginning wrapped in an ending.

This is where they came alive, where the shadows of friendship fell away, plunging them into a world unknown. Jak was terrified, was chewing on words that clung to his tongue, that were scared to be set free. He needed to know, to be sure that Keira felt the same, that she wanted this as much as he did. It would have been so easy to get caught up in the moment, in the relief of winning, of _living._ Maybe Keira was just happy to be alive, the same way Jak had been when he kissed Ashelin.

Keira’s skin is soft and warm in his hand, shoulder bumping against his as they walk. Jak’s gaze flickers from the street to her face, to their joined hands, to his jacket, which looks just right on Keira, despite being a size too big. He _really_ likes the way it looks on her, would _love_ to see her dressed in nothing but one of his shirts. The thought brings warmth to his cheeks, am an impish smile to his lips and pleasant thoughts to his head. Jak folds the image away for safekeeping, for, hopefully, a future night.

The surrounding buildings grow smaller as they turn into the newest addition of Haven City. Keira’s apartment comes into view, shiny and new like all the rest, dark and quiet without its occupant to fill it with light and sound. The brook running along each side of the street bubbles softly in the night, a frog sits on the ledge, leaping into the water as they walk by. A few more feet and Jak will have to say goodnight, will have to make the long journey home to Daxter’s apartment.

If he doesn’t speak now, if he doesn’t ask the burning question of ‘what are we’ then he’ll spend the rest of the night restless, tossing and turning as fear eats away at him. Jak doesn’t want to wake up and discover that today was just a dream, just a trick of his mind. He wants more. _Needs_ this to be real, to be happening. He wants to make plans with Keira, wants to map out a future and put down roots. Wants something real and solid to hold onto to, to grow with. Keira’s always been the tether keeping him from drifting off, that was never more apparent than the night he fell apart in her arms.

He wants clarification and silly labels like boyfriend and girlfriend.

Like partners.

Keira's door is before them, is right across a small bridge that will take less than a minute to cross. Keira is rummaging in her pockets for the keys, cursing as they come up at empty, forcing her to rummage through her overstuffed pink duffle bag. Jak’s about to offer a hand when there is a jingle, a triumph yes, and she is slipping from Jak's grasp, cracking open the door. Light spills out into the night, haloing Keira in a golden glow. Jak clears his throat, straightens his shoulders and crosses the bridge, stopping at Keira’s door.

“Can we… can we talk?” his voice sounds harsher than he intended, even after all this time he still hasn’t quite figured out how to pitch his voice right. “About us.” He adds, voice cracking and urgent.

Keira looks uneasy, shrinks into the jacket, spark dulling in those beautiful emerald eyes of hers. Jak sees his fears reflected in her eyes, finds it as clear as day in the crease of her brow and the downturn of her lips. He softens, cups Keira’s flushed face between his hands, thumbs stroking gently at the soft flesh. He leans in, lips meeting Keira's in a tender kiss, pouring everything he's never said into the simple action. He doesn't break away until he feels the tension ebb from her neck, hears her bag thump on the ground as she tangles him in her arms.

“I want to be with you, Keira,” he admitted, breathless, dizzy, “I want us to be together.”

“I want that too,” she replied, gazing up at him with such love and intensity that it bought tears to Jak’s eyes. “I think we’re finally ready.”

“I agree,” Jak nodded, lips curling into a smile. “So, this is it, we’re together.”

“Yes.” Keira rises on tiptoes, arms lacing around Jak’s neck as she rested her forehead against his. “And the world can’t tear us apart.” 

Jak titled forward, smiling lips capturing Keira’s mouth in a kiss that says a thousand words. The wind dances around them, gentle and steady against their tired frames. Keira’s tongue grows lazy first, lips moving sluggishly as the late hour catches up to her. Jak trails away from her mouth, nibbling a path to her neck, to a sensitive spot below her ear. She shivers in his arms, giggling at the new sensation. Jak drew back, keeping her in his arms a moment longer, wanting to cherish the night, tuck it away to replay over and over.

"I should let you get to bed." Arms fell away reluctantly. Jak bends to collect Keira's bag, passing it to her before nodding at the door. “I'll come by tomorrow; we can go for breakfast?”

“It’s a date,” Keira grinned, eager and sweet, eyes bright and burning with joy.

“It’s a date,” Jak repeated, liking the way it sounded, the way it made his stomach flutter with excitement and nerves.

Keira takes a step back, carelessly tossing her bag inside then lifts her hands to unbuckle the clasps of the jacket. There is something very intimate about watching Keira undress, she slips free of the garment gracefully, handing it to Jak with a coy smile on her face. Jak swallows thickly, thanking her as he takes the jacket, slipping back into, feeling Keira’s warmth and scent engulf him. He can’t contain the shiver, the spark of heat that stirs under his skin.

He really needs to go before this excitement takes hold of him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, voice a little strained, cheeks flushed and hot like Keira took off more than just an outer layer.

"Sweet dreams, Jak," Keira says, voice honeyed like she knows exactly what she's doing to him.

Jak throws caution to the wind, closes the space between them and draws Keira in for one more kiss. He feels the ‘I love you' balance on the tip of his tongue, but it's too soon to speak, too late in the evening; the confession could be forgotten like a dream. It doesn't need to be spoken, not at this moment. Jak shows it in the slow, tender kiss goodnight, with every touch and glance, in the way he lingers after the door is closed.

Jak waits until the light goes out, inside quiet and still, then turns away, heading off into the night with a smile on his face; heart beating bright.

  **The End**


	5. Breakfast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I wasn't planning on writing another chapter to this fic, but a few people asked to see the breakfast date, and I just couldn't resist. Be warned though; this might rot your teeth. I seriously haven't written this much fluff in so long! Enjoy =D

Jak wakes to a gentle stream of warm sunlight filtering in through the window, he scrunches his eyes shut against the light, turning to bury his face in the pillow. There is a faint echo of voices and a distant rumble of an engine drifting through the open window, a sign the city is starting to stir. Jak’s content to let the world rise, he’d rather stay in bed and catch up on all those missed nights of sleep. Rolling over, he makes himself comfortable under the mound of covers, sinking into the soft mattress, drifting back into the welcome embrace of sleep.

The next time Jak wakes it’s to the bright light of midday and the sinking feeling that’s he’s forgotten something. He fumbles with the covers, shifting through last night’s memories for a reminder. He’d walked Keira home from the port, she’d been wearing his jacket, it looked good on her. He kissed her goodnight, walked home, feeling bright and hopeful, heart fluttering in his chest. Jak can’t recall what followed once he arrived home, he was beyond exhausted, doesn’t even remember undressing or going to bed. Only he must have because he’s stripped down to his underwear and is snug under the covers.

Last night’s memories are hazy, are shimmery and bright like a mirage, but they weren’t a trick of the light. They aren’t tendrils of a dream. Jak’s lips tingle at the memory of kissing Keira, if he closed his eyes, fell back against the covers he’d feel Keira’s warmth on his skin, would be able to sink into the memory and remember how sweet she tasted, how good she looked in his jacket. But there’s a niggling sensation in the back of his mind, a blank space waiting to be filled.

Voices echo from the kitchen, the scent of bacon wafting down the hall fill Jak’s room. His stomach rumbles, tugging the memory loss - breakfast. He told Keira he’d take her to breakfast. Shit. Not wasting another second, Jak jumps to his feet, racing around the room in search of clean clothes. He knocks over a lamp in his haste, ignoring it as it clatters to the floor, landing safely on a pile of discarded clothes. The commotion is enough to draw attention, but he pays Daxter no mind when he burst into the room, looking like he expected to find Jak in danger.

“Hey, that’s expensive!” he exclaimed, gesturing at the lamp.

“It’s fine,” Jak replied, voice muffled by the material of a shirt, “and you didn’t pay for it.” Successful wrangling the material over his head Jak tugs the shirt down, the white fabric falling over the faded purple scars on his abdomen.

“Why are you in such a hurry?” Daxter asked, leaping up onto the bed to get Jak’s attention. “Off to see a certain blue-haired girl?”

Stepping into a pair of dark jeans, Jak spares Daxter a quick glance. “I told Keira I’d take her for breakfast.” The jeans settle snug on his hips, Jak fastens them before turning back to the closet in search of a coat.

“It’s midday buddy.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Jak spun back around, eyes narrowing at the bright light seeping through the fluttering curtains. “I overslept.”

“You needed it.” Daxter shrugged, slipping from the bed and padding his way towards the wardrobe, gaze flickering over Jak’s limited selection. “I’m sure Keira won’t be mad; she’s forgiven you for worse.” He adds, face splitting into a shit-stirring grin that is probably supposed to ease Jak’s anxious mood.

“Not helpful, Dax.” There is a bite to his tone, something unpleasant twisting in his empty stomach at Daxter’s words. He’s very aware of how much he’s put Keira through, but there is no point darkening the morning with the past. They’ve grown so much since then, have forgiven mistakes and bad choices made in heated moments. Pain and anger were unpacked, put out into the open to heal in the light of day, and what emerged was stronger than before.

This time it’s going to be okay, it’s going to be right.

“Okay, okay, I’m just teasing.” Daxter raises his hands in defence, tone light and placating, “Why don’t you go freshen up, and I’ll use my excellent taste in fashion to finish off your ensemble.”

Jak hesitates, eyes flickering from Daxter to the wardrobe before reluctantly agreeing. “Fine but keep it casual.”

“You can count on me.” Daxter salutes before diving into the cluttered mess of clothes and various other junk that’s been stuffed away to give the illusion that the bedroom is neat and tidy.

Jak spares the wardrobe one last fleeting look before sprinting out of the room, distantly hearing Daxter remind him to brush his teeth. He slides into the bathroom, forcing himself to slow down, take a pause, calm the anxiety. Keira will understand that he overslept, she could possibly be still sleeping herself. The last few months had been full of tournaments and terror, every day demanding and draining. The nights long, spent on edge as the threats pilled up, forcing everyone to sleep with one eye open.

Last night was the first time in Precursor knows how long that Jak fell asleep feeling safe.

Feeling happy and hopeful. 

Exhaling softly, letting the anxiety unknot from his stomach and hands steady, Jak returns to the task at hand. Five minutes later, teeth clean and hair styled, Jak returned to his bedroom, finding a brown yakow leather jacket laid out on the bed, goggles and red scarf placed next to it. Jak slips on the coat, taking a moment to adjust it before wrapping the red scarf around his neck and securing his old faithful goggles on his head. Glancing at his reflection, he fidgets with the collar of the jacket a moment before deciding to leave it folded down, soft, white fleece exposed.

“Lookin good!” Daxter whistles from where he leans casually against the doorjamb. “You’ll knock her socks right off.”

“Right,” he muttered, fastening the worn leather pouch around his hips.

“Hey, you need to give yourself more credit,” Daxter points a claw-tipped finger at him, “the ladies in Kras were practically drooling over you. Those baby blues and toned physique go a long way.”

“Oh, so it wasn’t my driving skills they liked?” he quirked a green brow, lips curling into a smug grin.

“Well it certainly wasn’t your warm personality,” Daxter shot back, playful and teasing.

“You’re too kind,” Jak quipped, gaze dropping to the clothes strewn floor in search of his fingerless gloves.

“Try your dresser Jak,” Daxter snaps his fingers in the direction of the wonky wooden dresser Jak found at a garage sale six months ago. He’ll fix the broken leg one day when he remembers.

“Thanks, buddy,” he bends to ruffle Daxter’s fur, he bats him away half-heartedly, flipping him off as he stands, pausing when Daxter’s grin falters, something dark and troubling flickering in his blue eyes. “Dax, what is it?”

He hesitates, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “We’re safe now, right?” he asked, voice tight and pitched high, eyes glistening with fear, tail thumping nervously. “Like, Razor and his crazy goons aren’t going to hunt us down and kill us in some brutal, horrific way to warn others not to mess with them. Right?”

Jak lowered himself to Daxter’s height, placing a hand on his small bony shoulder. “I think Razor will be too busy trying to get Kras back from Rayn to worry about us.” Jak isn’t afraid of Razor or the empty-headed thugs that shadow him, he’s faced far more dangerous foe and walked away victorious. Daxter fears are valid, Jak had panicked at the thought of living Kras City at Rayn’s mercy. He doesn’t like leaving loose ends, leaving enemies behind to strike another day. But he’s given enough, _lost_ enough to war and fights he never started. Kras City is almost a world away, and the people he loves and the life he deserves are right here. “We’re safe, Dax.”

Daxter’s ears perk up, lips curling into a broad smile. “Yeah, you’re right,” he shrugged, dusting off the matter like it was a foolish thought. “We’re back home, in one piece and everything is going to be okay." Daxter nods as he speaks, eyes lighting up as he exclaims, "no, everything’s gonna be great! We're rich! We can finally live it up." He leaps into the air, twirling in excitement before levelling Jak with a serious stare. "You know, I've always wanted a spa, oh and some diamonds for Tess! Massive ones."

Jak shakes his head, smiling fondly at his best friend. Dax has always enjoyed the finer things in life, likes making a splash and doing so in style. Jak’s never really stopped being the messy farm boy who scavenged for armour and wore second-hand clothes. Daxter might be on to something with the diamonds though. He tucks that thought away for a far-off day. Right now, time is slipping away, and a beautiful girl is waiting to be taken on a date.

**~~~**

Jak makes it’s to Keira’s at precisely twelve-fifteen, he parks his zoomer out the front and dashes across the bridge, rapping loudly on the door. An elderly woman from next door shoots him a dark look, a crocadog barks from a few houses down and a hovercar speeds by. Inside remains quiet, still. Jak strains to hear the faintest sound, peering in through the window for any sign of movement. The small hallway is cloaked in shadows, Keira’s shoes lay by the rainbow coloured welcome mat, left abandoned with a few unopened letters.

She’s most likely still sleeping, it wouldn’t be surprising if she spent the night working on a project or unpacking. Keira did have a habit of spending the night tinkering away or enjoying a moment of silence to herself. Jak has found her curled up in hidden places, coffee cold, book or magazine dropped to the floor, a spanner or screwdriver still clasped in her hand. Everything feels different at night, the twinkling lights and glittering stars make the world feel a little more magical, the problems of the day chased away by the silver light of the moon.

The night holds memories of first kisses and broken hearts. It could tell the tale of a young couple falling in and out of love, it could whisper secrets and reveal intimate details. The night has always been theirs, safe, silent and serene. Keeper of their beginnings and witness to their downfalls. There is no cover of darkness to conceal Jak now, the bright light of day exposes him, revealing to the world that the hero has a heart after all.

But Jak’s not afraid anymore. He’s tired of hiding in the dark, of pretending that Keira is just a friend when she means the world to him. He is truly ready for more.

Ignoring the watchful, burning gaze of the elderly women next door Jak knocks again, hoping to rouse Keira. The second's tick by and the sun falls behind a cloud, making Jak shiver. Worry creeps in like icicles under his skin, freezing the breath in his lungs. He knows Keira could sleep through a hurricane, but he doesn’t like the twist of anxiety in his stomach, the tension building in his shoulders. He briefly considers heading back to Daxter’s to get the spare keys for Keira’s place off Tess, but he can't bring himself to leave. They've been threatened far too often throughout the past three months for Jak to risk leaving, even if only temporarily.

With a thundering heart, breath held in his chest, Jak heads towards the side of the house, keeping his steps quiet and mind focused. There’s a narrow garden between Keira’s townhouse and the neighbouring one, a six-foot fence blocks the lush garden from view. Jak scales it with ease, landing silently on the overgrown lawn. Keira’s daylilies are in bloom, tangled with dandelions and a few weeds here and there.  The undisturbed grass has Jak sagging in relief, the back door is secured, bolted by half a dozen locks and monitored by a Scout Fly that Jak knows is designed to act.

He stops to pat the little robot, it whirs in pleasure, twirling excitedly in the air before hovering contently by Jak’s face.

“You don’t happen to know where a set of keys are, do you, little buddy?"

The Scout Fly chirps, wings beating faster as it angles sideways, metal compartment opening to reveal a ring of pink keys.

"Oh, well, that's helpful," Jak collects the keys, "thanks, you're a lifesaver."

The robot chirps again, fluttering off to nestle in the garden amongst the rose bushes. Smiling, Jak turns around, getting to work on the locks. It takes a few moments to figure out the keys, Keira hasn’t forgotten that Haven can be a dangerous place and she isn’t slacking on protection. There’s a tug at Jak’s heart, a sinking feeling as the last lock clicks and the door opens, Keira’s been living in fear long before Kras City. She’s been living in fear for years, building robots and adding locks to keep her safe, to keep the monsters out.

Guilt twists in Jak’s gut, he's going to change this, going to make sure Keira feels safe and secure in her home. For now, he’s going to quietly make his way inside and upstairs to Keira's room, where he finds her curled up under the covers, turquoise hair fanned over the pillow and cheeks rosy pink. Jak leans against the doorjamb, cherishing the sight, the way the golden light plays on her skin and her lashes flicker as a dream plays out behind her eyes.

God’s she’s beautiful.

Leaving Keira be, Jak heads back downstairs, opening curtains, unlocking windows to let in the warm light of day. Jak turns towards the kitchen, Keira’s shiny espresso machine glisten in the sunlight, promising delicious coffee if he can figure out how to use the damn thing. Admittedly he’s not the best cook, doesn’t have the dedication for creation like Daxter, but he's a fast learner, and the beautiful slumbering girl upstairs is worth the effort.

“Right,” he says to himself, hands coming to rest on his hips in determination, “you’ve got this Jak.”

**~~X~~**

Keira wakes to the smell of pancakes and the midday sun filling her room with warmth. Tangled in the sheets, caught in the delicate moment between wake and sleep, Keira’s foggy brain insists the luring scent belongs to the tendrils of a dream. Rolling over, struggle to wrangle her limps free of the covers, Keira sluggishly sits up. Golden light settles on her skin with the crisp air, muffled sounds filter in through the haze, scattering the last cobwebs from her brain.

Straining, she listens carefully to the rustle, cold panic seizing her when she realises it's coming from downstairs. Quietly, quickly, she reaches under the bed for the baseball bat Tess gifted her three years ago. Gripping it tightly, she edges out of the room, creeping down the curved stairwell. The sweet aroma wafting towards her, carrying an undercurrent of freshly brewed coffee, makes her pause. Fingers lesson their hold on the bat, heart rate calming as clarity washes over her.

Setting the bat aside, Keira takes a moment to comb the knots from her hair and straighten her pink silk nightgown before continuing down the stairs. It’s a little surreal to find Jak in kitchen, handtowel draped over one shoulder and a smear of flour on his cheek. Keira bits back a giggle, shimmering towards him, brushing the white powder from his cheek with a soft, teasing grin. He melts under her touch, sharp edges falling away, tension ebbing as a warm smile graces his handsome face.

“Good morning,” strong arms wind lazily around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest. “Or afternoon rather, we both overslept.”

“How long have you been here?” Keira glances around the room, taking in the fresh bowel of berries, the pitcher of orange juice and empty mug waiting for freshly brewed coffee to be poured into. Jak's sliced the strawberries into bite-size pieces has made the pancake batter from scratch and even managed to figure out the espresso machine. It's the grandest romantic gesture Jak has ever done, he's never shied away from being sentimental or showing his apparition through acts of kindness, it's just she never expected this much from Jak.

She feels breathless, _speechless_.

Jak slips from her embrace, the air chillingly cold against Keira's skin, she glances around the room in search of a discarded jacket or a throw she'd left lying around. Instead, she finds a brown jacket folded over the back of a chair at the breakfast bar. As Jak returns to the stove, to rescue the pancakes that are slightly overcooked now, Keira moves to collect the jacket. The fleece lining is soft and warm against her skin, Jak’s earthy scent clings to the collar.

“About half an hour or so” He shrugged like he hadn't gone to all the trouble of collecting blueberries from her garden and rummaging around in her messy pantry for ingredients when they usually eat out or order in. “You were still sleeping when I arrived, and I didn’t want to wake you” he adds, the gentleness of his voice bringing a smile to Keira’s face. “So, I thought I’d make breakfast and surprise you.” Jak pauses, brows furrowing as he asks, voice tight and nervous, “This is okay right?”

“Jak, it’s perfect,” Keira reassured, gliding back into the kitchen and wrapping her arms around Jak’s waist, “Gadget wouldn’t have let you in otherwise.” She said lightly, nuzzling into the soft fabric of Jak’s shirt, sinking into the warmth, into the moment of bliss and peace. “This is really sweet, Jak, thank you.” She kisses the space between his shoulder blades, right over the place where a jagged scar lies out of sight. “This is wonderful. You’re wonderful.”

Jak pivots in her arms, leaning down to capture her lips in a kiss that taste of berries and coffee. Keira grins against Jak’s mouth, resisting the urge to deepen the kiss, she’s no doubt got morning breath, and if she starts kissing him, really kissing him, then she won’t be able to stop. It’s tempting, but she doesn’t want to put Jak’s cooking to waste. Easing back, Keira slips from his embrace, giving him a look that promises there will be more of this later. Jak's eyes momentarily widen, gaze travelling over her, feeling like fire.

“Is this going to be a thing?” he asked, calloused fingers tracing the jacket’s collar, so close to her skin, “because I could certainly get used to seeing you in my clothes.”

“Well, I certainly like wearing them,” she winks, words sweet and teasing, Jak leans in, but Keira holts him with two fingers pressed against his lip. “Later, I really need some caffeine.” If Jak keeps looking at her like this, touching her _like that_ , then control and willpower are going down in flames. Jak’s fingers trail down Keira’s chest, glistening eyes following, letting go, only to tangle in the hem of her nightgown as she turns away, making the fabric stretch out, exposing the pink lace of her underwear.

The material slips free of strong fingers, settling around pale thighs. Keira feels Jak’s eyes against the back of her bare legs as she pours herself a coffee, takes longer than necessary to add sugar and cream. Turning around slowly, meeting Jak’s heated gaze, she takes a sip of the hot liquid, savouring the smooth bitter sweetness with a pleasured sigh. Jak’s pupils darken, cheeks flushing as Keira leans back against the countertop, looking up at him through thick eyelashes. Jak stares, inching closer, then suddenly stops, expression twisting into a mask of uncertainty.

Keira shuts down the temptress act, scolding herself for leading Jak on, for teasing and tempting him into something they aren’t ready for. They need to take this slow, no rushing in, no missing important steps for the sack of desire. It’s taken a long time to get here, they are still so fragile, relationship not even a day old. Keira sets aside her coffee and steps towards Jak, reaching for him, saying with a gentle smile that she understands, she does not expect more than Jak can give.

Keira doesn’t need to address the pause, the rapid change of mood, words aren’t needed anymore, they’ve come far enough to express their feelings with just a glance. There’s a world of unknown stretching out ahead of them, road pitted with potholes and conversations that can't be conveyed with only one look, but Keira trust that they'll be okay. Closing the space between them, Keira cradles Jak’s face in the palm of her hands, in a silent declaration of love, of trust and commitment.

It’s enough to reassure Jak, to settle whatever racing thoughts were racing through his mind. The smile returns to his face, delicate and warm. Keira traces a thumb over his lips, letting it trail to the green hairs of his goatee. Jak presses a kiss against the pale skin of her wrist, lingering a moment before returning his attention to the pancakes. Keira hesitates a moment, worried she’s ruined the morning, but she quickly shakes the thoughts away.

This is new for both of them, they are going to make mistakes, fumble and fail. Composing herself, exhaling the spike of anxiety, Keira busies herself by collecting plates and cutlery for the table. A comfortable silence falls over them, Jak flips and pours pancakes while Keira glides around the room, setting the table with pretty chinaware and a few fresh flowers from the garden. She’s arranging the daylilies in a crystal vase when a familiar and faded tune rises from her throat.

Keira has a splintered memory of a woman humming this to her when she was very young, it might have been her mother, or it could have been someone else, perhaps the bird lady or a woman passing through the village. The melody is only remembered in parts, lyrics long forgotten. The song strums in her chest, bittersweet and warm. Jak touches her elbow, gaining her attention. She meets his soft gaze, offering him a tender smile.

“I’ve heard that before.” He sets a large plate of pancakes on the table, voice soft and pensive, like talking about the past is forbidden, or if it's remembered too often, it will reopen wounds that are barely healed. “You used to hum it late in the night, I could hear your voice drift in through my window on the breeze, that’s how I knew you were still awake.”

Keira’s never forgotten that magical night they snuck out to admire night lilies in the Forbidden Jungle. The memory has been taken out in the late, lonely hours of the night replayed over and over. She remembers the taste of their first kiss, the thrill of it, the way it was clumsy and awkward, yet utterly perfect. The memory of that night is glittery and rose-gold, the rush of first love making it feel like she'd been part of a fairy-tale. What they have now is just as magical, but it isn’t the same innocent, easy love of their youth.

This love rose from the ashes, grew out of broken, jagged hearts and became something far stronger and more powerful than their younger selves could have ever imagined.

“I’m glad we snuck out that night,” Keira said, gazing deep into Jak’s eyes, seeing a glimmer of the boy he used to be, finding warmth and happiness shimmering in blue depths.

“Me too,” Jak’s smile lights up his face, dazzling and handsome, a beautiful, welcome sight to see. “It was the start of us, in many ways.”

“In a way,” she agreed, “but we’re not those kids anymore.”

“No, we’re not,” Jak admitted, tone steady and gentle, “but that’s okay. I believe we’re still meant to be together and last night, this morning-” He laces his arms around Keira’s waist, drawing her into his embrace “-proves that. We’re going to be okay this time, I really believe that.”

“As do I,” Keira smiles up at him, voice full of conviction, warm with affection, “we’ve made it Jak.”

The hard part is over, _they_ did it, they’re here in each other’s arms, in the light of day, on the road to their happy ending.


End file.
